On Cobblestone Streets
by convivialGrimace
Summary: AU: Being anything but human is considered a death sentence in the town of Prospit. When a troll steals from an unsuspecting human, the troll gets caught; yet, the human spares his life, not knowing who the troll is behind his hood. Johnkat. The first chapter's kinda dark so watch out. ON HIATUS
1. Freshly Caught

Good morning! Or afternoon. Or evening. Or whatever form of light you have at this time of reading!

This is my first fanfiction on this account! As you may guess from reading, this Homestuck fic takes place in the past; to be more specific, the Renaissance! It started initially as a role-play between me and Jo (better known on FF as CrowsGurl), but somewhere along the way I got the idea of making it into a fully-fledged fic.

If you take the time to read this note, I'd just like to say that I'd really like some reviews, good or bad. I don't usually write fanfiction and would like your opinion of my writing!

_Disclaimer: Andrew Hussie owns Homestuck, and I do not. However, this AU is equally attributed to convivialGrimace and CrowsGurl._

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><p>In an unnamed alley, a street urchin peeked his head out from around the corner, careful to not attract attention.<p>

The cool, new brick walls were a stark contrast to the broken, irritatingly hot cobblestone pavement for this urchin. A determined, hungry look took over his face as he watched the bustling streets of this town (he didn't remember the name of it even though he'd been there two or three days; it's not like he cared what it was). Squinting, covered eyes scanned the prospects, glaring at their selection with disappointment.

The privacy of the alley gave him plenty of secrecy to go about his task, without a single lord or dame passing by even thinking to glance in the poor street boy's direction. It was all that he needed for the moment, which was good, because it was all that he'd get.

See, he didn't particularly want to be scoping out a target, but there was nothing else that he could do. He barely remembered the last time he had a decent meal, or for that matter, any meal at all. He'd have to steal some change to keep himself alive.

(_It's stupid to have to live like this,_ he decided. It wasn't beneath him, but it was just this horrible injustice life dealt him that now he'd have to put up with. Great. More shit to deal with, that the world was piling onto his apparently inviting but undeserving plate. _As if it weren't filled with idiotic hoofbeast crap already!_)

Once again, he peered around the wall, forcing himself to sneak a glance at the sea of possible victims. His clawed hands impatiently drummed against the sturdy white bricks.

This urchin was looking for someone oblivious in a victim, someone dumb enough to not notice his presence until he'd already taken the loot. They couldn't be poor, though. That was asinine and pointless, to go around robbing poor people. Even a petty thief knew that. When they could, they went for the rich and stupid.

That shouldn't be too hard to find in this place.

It _wasn't_, the urchin soon found. He felt his lips twitch in a mixture of a snarl and a smirk at his small success, but he quickly drew his mouth into a line on impulse. Whatever. All he had to do was move in closer to the new mark.

He pulled down his hood, and taking a step outside of his temporary hiding place, darted into the alley. He couldn't afford to be seen. He was a drifter, and for all that, a troll.

Trolls were illegal.

The way law was enforced here, illegal meant _death_.

Without concern for any leering hoodlums or hunted criminals, the jingling of coins rang throughout the streets.

A goofy-looking human boy pulled out his small, velvet pouch. The way that baker was looking at him, he really needed to hurry up with his due payment.

The cost of his bread was only three shillings.

Thin fingers rifled through the fabric purse to find the little silver pieces promised. They wiggled through hidden pockets and strings and knots, poking and prodding for any little unridged metal disks they could find, sniffing out any spare coins that'd gotten lost amid the sea of coins that weren't shillings. Still, it looked like they weren't showing up any time soon.

The boy didn't give up hope, furiously nitpicking coins to the best of his ability. Damn it, he was going to get this creep off his back and he was going to do it right here, right now, he was not going to go back home and be fussed at by his waitstaff for not being able to do something as simple as picking up bread! He didn't have as many staff members as he used to, he knew this very well, and until he could get more he was just going to have to man up and do this himself.

_You can do this, dummy,_ the kid thought as he squinted at his pocket change. _Just find the coins._

A few minutes passed by, and it was obvious that the dummy could not actually find the coins.

"Augh! Are you kidding me, wallet?" the boy groaned.

This time, he gave up on paying like a normal person; he just dumped the entire contents of the tiny pouch onto the vendor's stand. From there, he hurriedly sifted through the entire mess. He was starting to feel really nervous and so his hands shook a little, but this hindered his coin-picking abilities only marginally.

(How the hell did wallet-toting neighbors deal with their pouches? Wallets were confusing enough already, but it seemed the boy's wallet was even more confusing than other peoples' wallets.)

The boy paused to mop some sweat off his brow before sifting some more.

"Sorry," he sheepishly apologized, turning his head to the baker. Clearly, the vendor was not at all impressed with the kid's foolish and time-consuming display. The vendor really needed to get off his back.

The more important problem was the troll tailing him. Said troll quickly darted closer to the busy streets and stood behind the safety of the wall, daring to hazard another glance at the man with the target painted on his back.

Oh. Not a _man_, then.

The _kid_ he'd chosen was easy to spot with his blue garb (this guy was clearly asking for a bit of pocket change to be taken off his hands, with the lavish dyes used on his clothes telling the entire story) and general goofiness (which was visible even from an alley). Just the way he clumsily spilled the contents of his wallet showed it. Soon the glint of bronze, silver, and what might have been _gold_ moolah filled the urchin's visi-

_Whoa._

Just look at all that money, laid out so carelessly for all to see. All of it was his for the taking, calling out the urchin's name. How many shillings was that in there, now? He'd probably be able to eat actual meals for _weeks_ using those coins. And maybe buy a new cloak, too. He could probably even get out of town on transport, if nobody would recognize him. He'd be a rich man, money in his pockets, bed rented and awaiting him, if he could just claim what was rightfully his.

The thief took this as a dare.

Licking his lips in anticipation, he stuck his head out completely and skirted around to the other edge of his wall's corner, now in slight danger of being seen. The risk factor was starting to build.

His eyes focused; his shoulders hunched; his hands tensed, poised for nabbing. This hoodlum _really_ needed those little coins.

At the moment, it seemed the human needed those little coins more. That baker was almost boring holes into the boy with the power of his unkind glare. Said boy bit his lip, showing his overbite, though due to the stress his lip was on the verge of bleeding.

Well, it seemed there were no shillings in that inconvenient wallet of his. And it _was_ his responsibility to bring bread home to his (admittedly substantially reduced) staff. He'd just have to give that vendor the next best thing. A half-crown ought to do.

His eyes quickly scanned his selection of coins before he anxiously grasped a large silver coin. Avoiding the undoubtedly-there evil eye (oh geez, why hadn't he worn his lucky bracelet that day?) emanating from the vendor, he thrust the small metal object into the man's waiting hand as quickly as he could. The baker's calloused hands tightened around the money. Shortly, the man brought it to his mouth and bit on it to check if it was indeed genuine.

"Uh, that's a real half-crown, you don't need to check!" the boy said to the man, forcing himself to look at the merchant who was actually starting to get really unnerving.

The merchant growled and turned his glare to the boy's face, biting on the coin and exposing his multitude of shiny silver fillings (which were completely unbefitting for a mere baker). Said boy gulped; this had to be some kind of threat.

Why was he even buying from him? He took off his glasses for a split second and wiped them against his clothes anxiously, taking the baker out of his line of sight. The baker did not take the boy out of his sight, however; he watched as if the awkward fifteen-year-old would do a ladscamper at any moment. Which was more than a little plausible.

This kid _really_ did not want to spend any more time at this market stall.

The troll was still watching from a distance.

He wrinkled his nose in disdain.

Taking in every movement of the somewhat-gangly human, he noticed that the boy was derpier than he initially thought. Other thieves would snatch him right up; he was an easy, if not perfect target.

The troll also noticed there were no guards to catch him.

Yes, he decided. This would be quick, easy, and he wouldn't leave a single trace of himself to the derpy kid. That is, when he figured out how he would go about mugging him right off the streets. Even this simple heist required some thinking through.

He straightened up, sniffing at the air a bit: a horrible nervous tick he couldn't help but give into when he was going to do something risky. No guards and no intelligence were nice enough, but plenty of witnesses made this somewhat inconvenient. The one that worried him the most was the watchful merchant patrolling the stand; he seemed to be keeping his eyes glued to the boy in blue and watching for suspicious characters at the same time (though that might have been due to his lazy eye).

No, that wouldn't work in any fathomable way with the vendor there. He'd get noticed by him - whether that was an okay thing or not, the troll could not say - and regardless of his character or possible gang affiliations, getting mixed up with that guy probably wasn't some shit that ought to go down.

But, now, see, if the rich prick could just get _out_ of the merchant's range of vision, then he'd be able to nab the coin purse and abscond undetected, before any authorities could come by and nab him like they had done so many times before.

The passers-by didn't matter. They never noticed much of anything anyhow. All the urchin'd have to do is melt in and out of the crowd and snatch it where nobody'd notice.

_It would be so easy,_ thought the troll as he continued to examine his target.

The boy had felt a surge of relief when the freaky vendor grunted with approval. Now the kid could safely sprint away.

He scooped up all of his coins and threw them into his pouch, closing it and stashing it into his jacket pocket before anyone could take it. Then, he snatched up his mafia-made bread and dashed away, just to get away from that man whose gaze he could still feel burning into him.

All that he had to do was get home safely and he wouldn't have to deal with unnerving vendors and confusing wallets and creeps. At least, ones he didn't know.

He dashed down the cobblestones, head held high and arms kept close to his body (just the way Dad taught him to protect against pickpockets), ready to turn up on his noble doorstep and chow down on bread that was probably filled with some sort of smuggled goods, alongside an innocent plateful of soup.

Delicious!

Only...

The kid was so busy thinking of coming home to lovely, warm broth that he didn't notice his thoughts were slightly flawed in their basis. He was assuming that he was heading home.

The thinning of the populace walking the streets didn't alert him at all.

The urchin didn't particularly care where the stupid human went, but now he was forced to chase after him if he wanted to eat this week. A scowl made its way onto his face.

Damn it. He was heading into the wrong place, into his kind's epicenter, he just knew that little twerp would get snatched up by others there if he wasn't fast enough. That meant he'd have to actually run as well as take shortcuts, and that wasn't anything he wanted to do any time soon.

Of course, the kid was running as motherfucking fast as he could. It would just be a walk in the park for someone who deserved it if he weren't.

Relying on three days' gathered knowledge of the backroads, the troll dashed into the labyrinth of streets once more, trying to get ahead of the human. He could see glimpses of the blue boy whenever they both passed by an alley at the same time, kicking up dirt with every silenced footstep. Slowly but surely, he crept closer and closer, preparing to pounce.

The human boy was unaware of this.

Actually, he wasn't aware of much except for the fact that what he was walking on felt more and more like dirt under his feet rather than cobblestone.

The coins jingling in his pocket were quickly silenced by his palm.  
>Something wasn't right.<p>

Taking a second to look down, he noticed that it was indeed dirt, and that the ground was significantly more unclean (oh god, did they dispose of…waste right on the streets?). Looking up once more, he found that the buildings were old and worn, and most of all, the silence. He hadn't heard so much as a peep this entire time. This was not his neighborhood in Prospit.

He suspected he wasn't even _in_ Prospit.

His running slowed while he examined his surroundings more thoroughly. He soon realized he had no idea where he was going, and no idea where he came from (why did he have to take those twisty paths into not-Prospit?), and no idea where he was.

The street signs were conveniently absent. All the buildings seemed to be empty, not that they looked particularly inviting with their unweathered coats of thick, glossy black paint. Things...possibly _people,_ seemed to be scurrying about in the shadows, in the manner of untamed rats, the odor of filth clinging to their skin like an uninhibited parasite.

And if that wasn't scary enough, it felt someone, one of those _people_, was _watching_ him.

The troll didn't give a single fuck about what drama the human was going through. This was all the better: if any authorities came by, he wouldn't be able to run off and tattle to them about how his precious, precious change was taken from him by a dirty bandit.

At this rate, though, he wouldn't even need to, because his hand was holding the money he was planning on taking! As if by doing that, he would deter the urchin. He'd be mugged anyways. It was stupid and everything about him was stupid.

He still had to fight to not let a growl escape from his lips.

That kid had nothing going for him, he reminded himself. _Nothing_. His claws were blunt and his skin was weak and his eyes were useless and he was useless. The thief despised humans, he couldn't _tolerate_ how weak they were and how they put on artificial exoskeletons to deal with their evolutionary inferiority, how they lied so freely, like it was second nature, how they were at the top of the social echeladder and all of them had no qualms with stomping trolls into the dust.

And he couldn't stand this one in particular. Useless. Weak. _Even for a human._

This whole ordeal would be futile on his end. It would be over in a second, even if all the urchin did was accidentally jab him too hard while he was doing him the favor of cleaning out his pockets.

Not that the human knew; he was too busy worming his way around like a brainless slug. He turned a corner, and another, but he didn't recognize any places or shops. In fact, he was probably worming deeper and deeper into Nightmare City. He still felt eyes glued on him like stains that his servants weren't able to wash out.

His feet leaving tracks in the soft pathways, the boy continued sprinting aimlessly. Everything was covered in shadow, now. Tall, glossy buildings and thorny trees blocked out most of the light. The ground was slightly wet with unevaporated rains, and the resulting dew stuck to the boy's fine leather boots like book-binding glue.

The boy sighed. Despite a furtive searching for any sign of intelligent life, it appeared he would not get out of this place.

He would be lost forever in the labyrinthine streets, all hopes of seeing cobblestone and pretty dresses dashed to the wind. Eyes could see no exits; only a hazy number of alleys with seemingly no end. Pessimism was creeping up on the impressionable child, and to get away from it he ran faster, desperate to live to see the sun another day.

But then he ran into the wall.

The sharp impact with the black bricks knocked the last bit of his head out of the clouds. In a fleeting second, he slumped to the ground, whipping his hand away from his wallet impulsively.

The bread, once held in the crook of the boy's elbow, went flying into the darkness.

He put his sleeve to his head, but it came back wet and shiny.

The boy's optimism and bravado knew its limits. Instead of getting back up, he hung down his throbbing head, wincing at the pain it gave him.

Annoyance at the kid's stupidity dissipated, the troll had to stifle a mocking laugh at the guy's session. Was he really so weak that after a little bump on the head, he gave up? Like he'd said, dumb. Pathetic. Futile.

Still, the pouch of money _was_ lying dangerously exposed to public view now...

He moved towards the victim, soundlessly and stealthily. Only a few feet away from his prize, he began to crouch lower in hopes of not arousing suspicion. He dropped down to all fours without hesitation and started shuffling closer and closer.

The boy whimpered in response, but wasn't looking his way. The troll felt an uncomfortable churning in his stomach at the sound.

_Don't stop now, you're so close, it's your chance, asshole, go get yourself that five-course meal like you've always wanted..._

Despite his gastrointestinal system's inconvenient mutiny, the thief's hand slowly reached out towards the money.

It was just a snatch away, another few steps and he'd be eating full meals and buying a new robe and renting a safe bed to sleep in and privacy and shelter from the blistering sun. Another few steps and he'd be safe. He'd be alive.

It'd be the most rewarding one yet.

He wouldn't even have to make it personal, wouldn't even be able to remember his face or his glasses or the way he was slumped over on the ground. That stupid human kid was rich enough to live without a couple of shillings that were easily replaced, the money was right there in front of someone who _really_ needed it, they were both otherwise alone, who really gave a shit?

Yet…

The urchin's rebellious subconscious would not stand for it.

It forced him to hesitate and take in the human's expression. As he turned his face towards the boy, the vagrant felt his sense of confidence die a little. The expression on the derp's face had lost that idiotic bubbliness from first sighting. His head was bleeding bright red blood, sickening bright red blood, and it was dripping down his face while he lay there like a discarded marionette.

There was only one word for it: pitiful.

No, what was he thinking? Stupid, stupid, _stupid_ weak disgusting human trash! Stupid humans and their stupid everything! He was not going to treat this one all "nice" and "pleasant" just because he had a stupid_ troll pity_-inducing face!

Well, only in the way he always does. He was going to be the merciful fuck that he is and just take the stupid coins without killing him, because he is just such an agreeable guy. He was going to treat this inferior swatch of grease with what could almost be considered respect. This fucker would have to live life feeling downright grateful, that his temporary god hadn't forsaken him and decided to take up his own little toll fee instead, as a sort of "trolls are way fucking better than humans" tax, a reverse of the ones humans tried to impose on trolls before they gave up and started committing genocide, except this wasn't like that at all because this blue piece of shit's god was actually _sparing_ him the disgraceful act of being attacked with his belly up.

Still, the urchin's subconscious stabbed him in the grey matter with regret. _He may be a blueblood, but his blood is _red_. Like yours, idiot. You're not about to stoop to anyone else's level, and not all humans are like the ones you try to rob._

The urchin stared at the blue boy, who was bleeding from the forehead. His blood was getting into his hair and crusting up.

_Do you remember some of the good ones?_

For an second there, he was swayed. The sentiment had gotten to him, and he'd be damned if he wasn't going to be the most merciful god that ever lived.

The troll considered some other options. He could demand pay to help him out of the Veil (after all, this wasn't the place for the likes of rich idiots, and the troll's guilt would be appeased). Or maybe he could find some other rich target, one who deserved to get mugged more than this guy did, and leave him to fend for himself. He'd live without food for a few more days, it'd be fine, he'd be taking blood money if he was going to go through with it and that's worth not eating.

However, when it occurred to him just what he was thinking, he snapped out of it. _No, it fucking wasn't worth not eating. Five-course _meal_, you fruity rumpus asshole. Don't pass that up._

The troll swallowed his minor shame before it could build back up in him. Blood money or not, he needed it. He needed it more than any human did.

He snatched the purse.

The rich idiot had heard just a bit of shuffling. When it did nothing, he'd soon realized this was what was watching him.

Then he'd realized he should be very, very afraid of it.

He did not move, partly out of fright, partly because it hurt to move at that moment. So, instead, he had watched, darting his pupils about as if it did anything for his vision. The presence seemed to be in one of the shadows, so he cast his fearful gaze on it.

Nobody there moved; it was just standing there, waiting for something.

Then a claw had crossed his vision. Some wind from the motion kissed the boy's face. The tell-tale jingling of coins echoed through the alley.

His wallet was gone.

By now, he could not tell if the owner of that claw was still there, the umbras cloaking all forms and the silence drowning all sounds.

_Welcome to the Veil,_ the blue boy thought to himself ruefully.

There was little to no chance that he'd survive now, he knew that very well.

But soon, something amazing happened. An unprecedented optimism burrowed its way into his brain and convinced him that he could just get away, money or no money, if he did something. Soon, the boy found himself rationalizing it, since the sun's glow still streaked down the skies through the thorny trees, and while he could still see his shadow on the ground, he could see into the distance.

He could still make it home. There was time, right?

So the kid did something. Or, at least, tried to. He attempted to stand up, or least of all, sit up, but his sore legs only screamed at him as he kneeled his way to progress. It left him buckling to the ground once more, luck insistently proclaiming "nope" to such a course of action.

And just like that, his optimism left him in the dust and made way for some very unwelcome realism. However,_ fate_ was not without its own response.

A distant half-mile away, a guard had begun patrolling duties. This guard's shift was taken very seriously. He was determined to keep delinquents and felons out of his city, and so here he was, at the hiding place of them all.

Of course, the timing was slightly poor for catching vandals (very few were around this particular portion of the Veil at this particular time), but his idea was in mind and feverishly imbedded itself into his thoughts. Seven years of duty had made him a hardened albeit loyal man with strong morals, one who would sooner die than ignore his responsibilities to the innocent, even if the responsibilities were few and far between.

He pondered a line of thought very similar to this as he thundered down the streets, closer and closer in time towards meeting two lost boys.

"Help!" came a strangled cry from the kid. He was on the verge of losing all energy he had; his last burst of power was wasted on what was undoubtedly a futile shot.

Nobody came when he called.

In all honesty, he had half-expected it, and was even starting to accept it. Maybe he wasn't really mad at the thief, more at himself and the creepy vendor for making it happen, because it was his fault for getting spooked like that. It was just some suspicious bread! It's not like it drained his wallet. Hell, he'd live without any of his pocket change if he ever got out and back to his house. Oh, his staff, what would they think?

The kid shook his head in disappointment at himself. This was not a way for their boss to act, or even a way for an earl to act. He was supposed to be learning advanced arithmetic at home, not sitting in an alley feeling sorry for himself.

The guard was acting entirely appropriately, however. His ears had perked up as he detected a weak yell off in the distance. Initially, he would not have went after it, but seeing as there was a lack of criminals in his particular location and hence nothing to do, his brain accepted it as an excuse.

The heavy clomps of the man's thick, strong boots suddenly shifted direction to a more focused pattern in the direction of the call, leaving large footprints beside a boy's smaller ones.

At the sound of the plea, the troll flinched back, surprised. That was a mere blink compared to his thorough shock at hearing a third party's footsteps in response! He couldn't even believe his ears, superior to a human's as they were, until the portly figure of a guard came barreling around a turn.

He meant to run and save himself, he really did, but somehow his subconscious appeared to be playing sick and twisted pranks on him. Whether the cause of his second hesitation was surprise, the near-week's worth of sleepless nights, the countless instances of missed meals, or outright fear of what would happen, he could not say, but what he did know was that the human would not survive a beating from a guard.

True, the urchin wouldn't, either, and it wasn't like he was supposed to have much sympathy for humans anyway, but he didn't take that into account. Whatever that guard was doing, it wouldn't be good for the blue idiot, and so he felt compelled to stay.

Goddamn douchebag thinkpan, now he was going to be culled because of that stupid reason which he couldn't place and didn't entirely agree with.

Said blue idiot was afraid, too. Five minutes had went by, and now he heard a thundering series of footsteps in his direction; ones that did not belong to idle passersby!

This didn't sit well with him; he had been trying to avoid criminals, and now he was practically calling every other criminal out there to try and mug him again! And maybe, if he was lucky, it was a guard that would rough him up instead. This was probably a violent, moral-less part of the city, so who knew what would happen? He could die!

"Ah! Don't help, actually! In fact, I don't need help! Don't come any closer or I'll...I'll stab you! With a knife! I have a _really_ big knife and I will stab you with it!"

Now the boy whimpered a little bit at his impeding fate, cementing the validity of his threat. Now, why couldn't he just leave well enough alone like a sensible person? He was obviously not capable of fending off a criminal or a guard!

Not that he needed to; the guard was thundering down the streets now, because that was definitely a whimper coming from the same voice. It was his solemn duty as a guard to do what was right, and what was right was apparently saving the poor girl from her malefactor.

It had to be a girl's voice. In his heart, he knew it to be true. She was the damsel in distress; he, the hardboiled, platonic hero.

The villain in this tale had just stalked back a step, sensing the guard nearing. In his crowded and thought-cluttered head, swear words rang throughout every single crevice there, drowning out all outside noise, replacing it with a guilt that he hadn't known was there in the first place. He gulped in fright, but he couldn't move.

Why couldn't he just fucking leave and spare himself while he could? That goddamn stupid worthless human was going to be the death of him!

The apparently deadly human let out a very manly whimper right then and there.

A menacingly burly guard had stepped into his view. The enforcer carefully scanned the shadows and walls, his beady eyes darting back and forth to examine the surroundings. The only sound in the alley came from the guard's footsteps, for even the kid was holding his breath in fright.

Suddenly, the guard straightened at the sight of slight movement in one cluster of shadows. His head jerked towards it as his large, meaty hand lunged for the cowering vagrant hidden within, without so much as a glance towards the victim.

The victim shuddered, thinking of what could have been, but quickly turned his gaze towards the guard.

The guard quickly felt a worn hood underneath his fingertips, and in doing so, grabbed for it before it could flee. A rough pull brought up a small figure a few feet up higher. Dangling and flailing was expected; this person was clearly not choosing to do otherwise. The real shock to the two humans, however, was the snarled response from the newly found intruder.

"_Holy_ _bulgesuckin_'-!"


	2. A New Arrangement

Uh, good morning/afternoon/evening/night?

I wasn't really expecting anyone to read this! I apologize for updating so late, but impromptu groundings and procrastination are powerful deterrents. Expect better schedules than this, about weekly chapters or so!

This chapter's a little shorter than the first one, but I still hope you enjoy the story! It'd be awesome if you could review, or not, that's nice, too, but it'd be really encouraging if you do!

For clarification, in case you need it: John or Karkat or the guard aren't being referred to by name because they haven't formally introduced themselves yet. I'm trying to make as many subtle Homestuck references as I can, and this is just one of them. I'm not revealing all of the characters' positions in society, but suffice to say, there's a system towards it, and John and Karkat are the hints.

Sorry if the pronouns are being weird! I didn't proof it before posting. I'm currently scratching the back of my head from embarrassment.

_Disclaimer: Homestuck still doesn't belong to me, and it's still the work of Andrew Hussie. But this AU is the brainchild of CrowsGurl and convivialGrimace!_

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><p>In a guard's heavy and unbreakable grasp, a criminal was flailing about like a dying fish, and swearing like a sailor.<p>

The sentry smirked upon the reaction of his prized catch. The way that vagrant was cursing, though, grated on his ears like nothing he ever knew. When did a criminal ever learn words like "asshat"? And why did this little shit have to be so irritating when he used them?

To take his attention off the thief (and at least distract himself from the steady stream of profanity), he turned to the weakened kid in blue cowering by the wall.

This attempt proved overwhelmingly successful. It was a boy, not a girl, and it was looking at him like he appeared out of mid-air. The security official had to focus on not letting his jaw drop from surprise. He'd already caught his aggressor, and only now he realized that his victim was not who he'd thought he was.

"Errrr…yeh called fer help?" the guard forced out a little quickly, making the thief trail off from his former spew of swears in his surprise.

The boy in blue himself jumped at the sound of the man's gritty tone. It took him a second to get his shit together. At last, he meekly nodded, shaking a little out of fright.

"...y-yes?"

The warden seemed to look at the kid for a second, as if gauging his honesty, before accepting the statement. He shook the thief a little and heard jingling noise come from his pockets. A snarl came in response.

"He pick-pocketed yeh?" the guard asked the boy. "This th'guy we 'otta punish?"

At this, the boy nodded again, looking at the criminal with big eyes, an embarrassed blush tinting his pale cheeks.

He felt a little bad for condemning him to what was undoubtedly a fate of dungeon, possibly going for days without food or water. And the cells, from what he heard, those were horrible, too; not a place for weak men, mentally and physically. The saddest part was, the vagrant didn't appear to be much older than him (from what visual clues were given).

With his raggedy cloak and bare, dirt-clod feet, it looked like the urchin really needed the change more than he did.

Said street urchin started hissing and swinging at the guard furiously, his size being the only factor keeping him from landing a punch on the man. The sickeningly burly human sentry shook him once more, vigorously this time.

The sound of clinking coins falling on cobblestone streets was joined by the sight of chunk of stale, near-inedible bread crashing down beside a duo of pocket knives, (which, seeing as it was still light out, glinted ferociously while they fell). A cheap spool of thread fell out, as well, in addition to a needle snapped off at its front. All of this was difficult to see, due to a particularly strong shadow coming from one of the inky-black buildings that the contents of the urchin's pockets had fallen in the embrace of.

"Let me the fuck go!" the hooded thief screeched, reaching towards his only possessions with a feral desperation.

The guard was unsympathetic, instead opting to pull the hoodlum further away from his belongings. It took some effort, but at last, he managed it, keeping the boy wriggling from his grasp at bay all the while. The victim could only watch in terrified but curious enthrallment.

The jingling of a coin purse had not been ignored. In its general vicinity, the sentry reached out his great hand and picked up two items. The coin purse was quickly located between the two, and handed to the quivering kid huddled at the corner.

Embarrassment written all over his face, the victim hesitated before taking it back. Instead of putting it in his pocket, he clenched it in his hand. It didn't occur to him to do otherwise.

His eyes were busy following the guard. The knives were quickly being snatched by the great man, out of sight and out of mind. As for the bread and sewing kit, those were kicked aside, into the shadows of the alley.

The thief had remained silent, his boundless rage boiling once more. He watched his hard-stolen snack be kicked aside as if it were nothing; his treasured pocket knives stolen with nothing short of desperate theory. He'd be dead in a week without food and something beyond his claws for defense! What the fuck did this sentry character think he was doing?

"Give them back, you egregious shitstain! I'll fucking burn a hole through you with my _glare_ if I have to! Just give them back!" he screamed, jerking around as he tried to grab his knives. It was too late, as they had been safely placed in the guard's opposite pocket. His glare, murderous and furious, only flickered to the blue boy for a second in his attempted strife, his eyes sunken yet feverish under the shadowy cloak.

The blue boy, however, had his eyes glued to the mysterious boy and the large, apparently-benevolent guard. His skittish gaze alternated between each character rapidly, not wanting to miss a single moment of what was going on. He'd never seen such people before his life. The people he knew in his local area were nothing like these two, and so he had no idea how to react.

So he stared, mouth slightly open in his shock as he sat up against his wall.

"How do yeh think we ought to punish 'im? I'd say a month 'a dungeon'll teach 'im a lesson," the sentry chuckled to himself. He didn't empathize with ne'r-do-wells like this one he had just caught. They deserved to be exiled. Sometimes even culled.

He took great pleasure in shaking this bandit once more, just for good measure. The kid he was helping looked at the entire spectacle with wide eyes.

"Fuck you!" the vagrant snapped. All the intimidation and venom in his tone was lost when it wavered. It was obvious he'd gotten a bit of a scramble from being shaken. "You think it does _shit_, buddy? I'm still fuckin' _here_, aren't I?"

The enthralled nobleboy was taken aback by how the captured one spat out retorts.

The guard, however, was not impressed, judging by the look on his face. His entire body language threatened to shake the criminal again, but the sight of the boy shaking his head stopped him.

The kid was preparing to condemn the thief to a stint in the dungeon, like the law dictated he rightfully deserved for a crime of such a severity. It was what he had to do, it was the best suggestion.

And yet…

He didn't want to send this guy in. He just felt so _bad_ for him.

Besides, he hadn't done his worst; the pocket knives went unused, not a mark was made on him. And, really, he could tell that the guy hadn't been able to find any other means of survival other than stealing. One just had to look at the way his sleeves hung off his arms, his bone-thin frame of malnourishment, to see it. And anyone could tell that was bravado using his mouth; the dungeon was a horrible, horrible place.

That settled it. The criminal'd die in there. And the blue-clothed boy didn't want to send such a guy to meet his fate like that.

"No," came the decision in a meek, uncertain manner, as if he were trying out speech for the first time. "I, uh, I don't think he needs to be imprisoned."

The thief paused in his thrashing for a second to turn his head in the human kid's direction. The look in his eyes was downright gentle, contrasting his still-hostile nature.

The human was being _nice_ to him. He was being nice to a troll, which he was supposed to hate more than any human criminals out there. He was being nice to a troll, and the troll'd tried to steal his pocket change less than half an hour ago.

Fine. He could have some sympathy. For now, he had no cause to hurt the sorry idiot. That'd be his thank-you gift. Good for him.

The guard, however, was a much different story. His eyes hardened back up again. Did he seriously need to shake him twice, after his inventory had been spilled already?

"There, see? You think I haven't already been in the fuckin' dungeon? Like I already said; it doesn't do _shit_!" came the scathing remark, punctuated by the swinging of desperate fists.

The only sound from the guard was an irritated snarl directed towards the thief. The sentry wanted nothing more than to chain that sucker to the wall for a few days, without food or water. But for some reason, the blue boy was taking pity on the moron. Judging by his garb, he was of a much higher class than the guard, so he was forced to follow his decisions and comply with orders.

"Because a that, I was goin' tah leave yeh in the dungeon, and not come back fer three days! I ain't gonna do that now, so ye better be grateful to that bloke there fer keepin' yah alive!" he growled at the hoodlum.

Said bloke over there gulped and stared at the crook he was sparing, who did not appear to be in the least bit grateful (or even remotely relieved) for the moment. He just figured kindness was its own reward, like his father always told him. So he'd just be glad he did the right thing!

Did he?

Well, it was too late to decide otherwise, and it's not like it would have been needed. The kid still didn't think this hooded guy deserved to be chained to a wall.

"I don't need your stupid threats! I already don't remember what clean water tastes like! I haven't even eaten in a goddamn _week_! You think even _one more_ is gonna make any inane difference?" he spat at the guard, throwing him the best glare he had.

He was trying very hard to not let his eyes wander towards the boy. It was illness-inducing how pitiful the twerp was looking.

Meanwhile, the guard wasn't doing anything but focusing his limited, shadow-hindered vision on the kid. His expression showed disbelief at the boy's words for a while now. He had to admit it. The kid was sure defiant, if not foolish.

"Yeh seriously don't want ter lock 'im up fer just a month or so?"

The only reply was a weak nod, and the guard had to sigh with confusion. Kids these days, with their strange trains of thought. He'd never understand them. Though, that judgement would have been confusing to him no matter who made it.

"Well, fuck," the guard said, shaking his head. "we kin't just let the guy skip off into tha sunset. We got to punish 'im somehow."

The kid had not been considering that. He was only thinking the hoodlum didn't need any dungeon, since there were no other punishments for stealing, right? For all he cared, that vagrant could have been free to go. But no, he had already been very merciful with his fate. Apparently there was some other option. But what?

Then, it came to him.

All of this had only happened because he'd gotten lost when buying bread, right? And he'd only been buying bread because he didn't have any staff members that would be able to do it for him? And, well, his _remaining_ staff members would probably understand if he'd take advantage of what could have been a hopeless situation?

Of course they would. They were his _employees_.

It was settled.

"How...about he works it off?" he asked, though he very nearly cursed himself for letting it sound as weak as before.

A silence filled the air for a moment as all three people considered it. The sentry only looked towards the kid with an even more disbelieving gaze, unsure of whether or not to follow the suggestion.

The thief to be punished was silent, in thought over what his wretched excuse for a life was turning into. Then, he stopped. He groaned resignedly, a low growling sort of noise, and slumped down a little in defeat. He somewhat owed this idiotic excuse for human sap, after all. He wasn't stupid - he knew he wouldn't be able to make it a whole other week without food. Trolls took things like this very seriously. He might even be fed properly during the twerp's employment.

The bandit's hood dipped down with the bandit, covering his eyes to the point where they couldn't even be seen from below. No further protest was made.

The blue guy could tell that the hooded kid wasn't happy with his solution, but there didn't seem to be any form of opposition to it. Reassured by the thief's acceptance, he gulped and prepared to speak up again.

"You know, like community service? He could be on my cleaning staff until the law says he can be free to go." the human kid added. His tone had stabilized a little, to the point where he only sounded slightly shaken up.

The guard seemed to be processing this along with the initial question. He thought this annoying twit in the hood deserved nothing less than hanging from a wall, bound by chains and starvation. But of course, he had to go with this high-class kid's suggestions.

Relenting, the warden shook his head in further disapproval, but soon enough turned his head to the still-dangling kid and set him down on the ground. He scowled from dissatisfaction. For now, he'd have to console himself with knowing that being on a cleaning crew was pretty much torture. From what he gathered, anyhow.

"Fine, kid. A few days in dungeon is tah bare minimum fer this kinda offense, so 'e'll likely hafta stay longer fer this. Two months. Mebbe three. Mebbe more." The guard sneered, jostling the urchin a little bit to calm his nerves. "Still don't know why yer goin' easy on this guy, but yer the boss."

The kid himself didn't quite know why he was letting the other off so easily, either. Or why he wanted him to stay alive. What he did know, was that he didn't want anyone to die because of him. After all, he wasn't mad at the thief. That was reason enough, wasn't it?

Right?

He snuck a glance at the boy he was supposedly saving, and noticed that his hood had fallen over his eyes, covering them up, as if the shadows weren't doing a good enough job as is.

He was curious about the stranger, too. He had to admit it.

As if feeling the human's wary gaze on him, said stranger lifted his head, just enough to meet the human's eyes, since he was confident in the masking abilities of the alley shadows. He couldn't stand the temptation of casting a glance towards what idiot ever decided to pity…ugh, have mercy on a troll. Yet, he wouldn't say anything, affirmative or otherwise. Not until he was done with this chore. Maybe then he'd show some gratitude and be over with it.

Maybe. But probably not.

His eyes flickered away from the twerp's as quickly as they had met them, as though it physically pained him to look at them. It wasn't entirely untrue - the fluttering wingbeasts in his innards attested to that - so he glared hard at the guard's protruding gut. It was working. Now his innards were just hurting from disgust.

The human boy was almost certain that the stranger had noticed his creepy staring! After all, the way that guy lifted his head, it made him think that he was being given a judging glare. How embarrassing! It made the derp look away shyly.

Why was he curious about this thief? He was mysterious, okay, and being that defiant was something very few were, fine, but why bother taking an interest? That shouldn't have mattered, he was just some other guy off the streets.

Lost in his thoughts, he recalled that the guard had said something and nodded vigorously in response like it made up for anything.

"That's fine," he said, somewhat distant. The clouds in his mind were getting kinda hazy.

The guard, silently but impatiently awaiting the response, finally threw a sharp glare at the hooded cretin (he wanted to spit at the very mention!) before letting him go. Just as the thief was about to make a run for it, the guard acted, taking his arm and the victim's.

The victim was suddenly pulled to his feet, and his legs still hurt, but they were probably functional by now. Nevertheless, he let out a wince not acknowledged by the other parties.

"Well, yeh gotta have 'im get on with his duty t'morrow!" came the demand of the guard.

"Hey! Let us the fuck go!" the masqueraded troll barked, jerking at his arm to try and free it.

He hadn't done anything! Not to mention that human, dumb as he was, respected the unworthy guard like he should've, so neither of them should be treated so roughly, like they were about to be executed! Where the hell did the guard get off grabbing them up like that! If he had his knives, he'd give that guy what fo-

_Why did he even give a rat's ass about it?_

The defensiveness gnawed at the pit of his stomach, sinking like an unwanted stone. The thief was painfully aware of it as he glowered at the guard, not holding back even a grain of his hostility towards the larger man.

"Nope," the guard retorted, more than pleased to get a reaction out of the street punk. "Gotta make sure yeh're gonna start yer punishment, let alone finish it." He punctuated his statement by smirking cruelly at the criminal, coaxing out a low growl.

The twerp didn't say anything, opting not to protest. Unfortunately, the man's frighteningly strong grip was bone-breaking in its intensity.

Yet, the growling emitted from the guy in the sentry's other hand was scaring him a little more. For such a mysterious thief, the urchin was baring what seemed like unsolicited rage to the world. Didn't he ever run out of anger? Didn't he realize there was no longer anything either of them could do?

"It's alright, I think. It's part of his job." The derp tried to explain its importance to the stranger boy, but he didn't think it mollified him in the least.

The stranger boy was a little surprised that the idiot human beside him was trying to talk to him, but he didn't dare show it. The idiot obviously didn't know just what he was, or just how much he despised humanity, or how much he'd like to scratch the guard's arm if it wasn't covered in some sort of protective cast.

The glare he was holding barely lightened as it flickered towards his new companion, for, oh, two months, was it? He wanted nothing more than to snap back at the warden with a vicious remark and take a good swing at him, but in his fury, he recalled it'd only amuse the guard further. That wasn't going to happen on any grounds, or he'd just get more vicious and pissed.

With a final snarl reverberating in the back of his throat, he submitted to the man's grip. His extreme reluctance was apparent.

A quick glance towards the angry one revealed that he only seemed to get angrier. The singular reaction seemed to be an unnatural, animalistic noise. It gave the human shivers. It wasn't a friendly, or even _neutral_ sort of sound; it was more like a warning!

Oh, no! The kid hadn't even considered what getting to know his new employee would be like if he were upset at him for getting him caught! He was an earl-to-be, he should have known better than to not think this sort of thing through! Just saying "oh bluh bluh bluh we can't do anything now" wasn't going to help anything!

He dropped his head down, but he couldn't stop sneaking glances to check for any signs of aggression directed toward him. So far, none he could be certain of, but who'd let this kind of thing go?

Especially if they weren't exactly the friendly type!

The guard wasn't paying attention to the two drama queens thinking up new and stupider way to embarrass themselves in his grasp. Instead, he took awareness of his surroundings. He'd made swift work of the Veil, and he could already see the transition between poor and rich dwellings take place. The streets were already becoming cleaner, the houses were growing more and more ornate, and the cobblestone paths became less chipped and worn.

A grunt made its way from the sentry, half from habit, half from annoyance at the sudden silence. He took a quick peek at the situation he was holding, seeing that the urchin was showing little reaction and the derp was only somewhat afraid-looking. He did his best to feed off the fear coming off in small waves from the derp before turning his head back to the world.

Said urchin's panicked gaze was shooting around rapidly, scanning his surroundings to keep a full grasp of where he was at all times. Any chance presented would be taken advantage of in no time.

If any human caught so much as a glimpse of his true identity, his head wouldn't be craning around his neck as much as it would be rolling away from a guillotine. Or bleeding his disgusting blood from where he'd been stoned to death.

Being a troll really, really sucked at times.

As more and more human civilians filled the streets, he couldn't but hang his head a little lower and move his feet a little faster. He couldn't stand being in highly-populated areas. All those humans who could see him made him far too anxious to return to the solitude of a lingering alley shadow. At the sound of a particularly loud door closing, he flinched, gritting his teeth and waiting until he'd finally get free.

The derp responsible was nervous, too, but not quite as much as the thief was. He was a little skittish to see the other boy's reaction to his new, unrequested position. Relief was there, too, coming in great amounts as he got closer and closer to his house, where he'd finally reunite with what was near and dear to him! His faithful staff would be a sight for sore eyes!

Only then did it occur to him that he had no idea where his bread was. The thought was quickly washed away by _oh my god will he try to kill me when we get released why did I ever decide to do this he took my wallet for a moment and maybe that wasn't all he could have done to me I mean those knives sure looked sharp and maybe now he'll hurt me since I effectively did this to him_.

Needless to say, the guard chose then to slow down a bit. He honestly didn't know where the twerp in blue lived. There was only his assumption, and lavish clothing only told him that this kid lived in a richer part of town.

The passersby gave the trio a dirty look every now and then, but each glance bounced right off of the warden. All that mattered was that he dealt with this crap and reported to his superiors of this arrangement. Legal shit would go down, and he just want to get over with it.

"Hey, kid. Where's yer house?" the guard asked the kid, without so much as a trace of sheepishness.

It took a few seconds before the kid answered, his head was so far in the clouds. He opened and closed his mouth like a dying fish until he took notice that he'd been asked a question. The freakout promptly ended.

"Uhh. It's in t-the area near the Prospit market, I remember that. I can tell you where to g-go from there!" he stuttered, struggling to remember how exactly he was supposed to phrase his words (and also how to speak).

The guard nodded with understanding and grunted. Everyone in Skaia knew the market.

He began to head there, ignoring the judgmental eyes of the folk around him.


	3. Of Hands And Clementines

Whoa! Good morning/evening/afternoon/sunrise/sunset/midnight/ time period at which you are reading this!

This chapter got incredibly short and I posted much later than I expected to. I have no excuse for this. What I do have is one longer chapter prepared in advance!

This has actually been RP'd pretty far in advance, so I'm hoping to churn out chapters much faster than this and then _actually_ post it weekly. We'll see. My internal schedule is pretty weird about now!

Please forgive me, have some almost-fluff. And actual names! No longer must the thesaurus be abused!

_Disclaimer: I swear by the everloving name of Cheesus Crust that I don't own Homestuck, because Hussie owns Homestuck. Less people would die if I owned it._ _This AU does belong to convivialGrimace and CrowsGurl, though!_

* * *

><p>Getting the derpy idiot to the market turned out to be unusually easy.<p>

Getting the thief to the market, on the other hand, was not.

"Shit!" the vagrant sputtered raspily under his breath, his nose crinkling in pure disdain. He had started flailing for just a moment, but at the sight of the first civilian on the streets, he was forced to comply or else risk…something, whatever it could be. He didn't know, but it couldn't be good.

Of course the little nook-sucking human would live in one of the busiest districts of the town! He was now beyond the point of return to even consider escaping to his comforting and simultaneously unsanitary alleys. If he were to try, he'd be spotted, and it'd turn into a downright manhunt for him. And he wouldn't even have to expose his species to get it started.

Just wonderful!

His gaze fell defeated to the ground, his feet feeling a little too heavy for his frame. Naturally, the guard's "assistance" was met with the occasional resistance, but otherwise the thief settled into silent submission. For the moment.

Maybe, just maybe, if he'd even manage to get to the derp's place of residence, he'd get through the fucking sentence and get out without being discovered. Two months was only so long. By the time the idiot would realize who exactly he'd "taken in", he'd be long gone and free.

Wait, damn. The vagrant mentally reprimanded himself; he ought to be grateful the sap spared him. A little guilt settled nicely in his stomach, and now his entire body felt like a dead weight.

The human kid, however, was absolutely incapable of feeling negativity toward much of anything at the moment. He was certainly a little anxious and more than a little worried, that he'd admit. But he was definitely not upset or anything. That'd be absurd! He was almost home, how could he be upset?

The crowds grew thicker, from a smattering of passersby to a rabble of lords, ladies, and peasants alike, chatting gaily and bickering as common folk did. A towering gate came into view just as quickly as the locals did. With its high arches and golden illuminations about the rail, it was a sight to behold. A glint from the metal made all three men have to squint in order to look at it.

Yep. This was the Prospit market, alright. There was no mistaking it for Derse.

The guard's grip firm on his arm, the kid's eyes darted back and forth in hopes of a glimpse of bread. Maybe he could still bring some home.

None was spotted. Darn. He was getting a little hungry, too.

"And, from 'ere, we go where exactly?" the guard huffed, turning to the young nobleman in blue before redirecting his stern glare towards the thief.

Unfortunately, the nasty punk seemed to have taken a sudden interest in his feet. Good for him. The guard was both relieved and disappointed to not have to deal with him for now.

In the kid's case, he was only irritated. Was that kid even listening to him?

The guard snarled. He was being reduced to reminding a daydreaming dunderhead that he'd asked him a question.

"We gotta git this guy o'er there, pal. Where do I go?" This final inquiry was met with a sharp tap on the shoulder, jolting the kid out of his reverie.

This kid had completely forgotten that he had to deal with his current predicament! Instead of paying attention to the gruff sentry's questions, he was busy eyeing the newest member of his staff. He didn't really look like like he was resisting as much as earlier. Or even particularly determined to resist. That was probably a good thing, right? He was accepting it?

It could just as easily have been fatigue, though. When was the last time this guy had eaten? Mentally bringing that up made the kid's stomach growl in sympathy. So much for the soup he was supposed to have when he arrived home, he probably missed it!

The second question from the guard had reminded him that he could make a stop, probably, if he asked nicely. Just the thought of oranges made him want to go, but he could also get his companion a proper meal with some grapes and maybe even smoked fish if they had it! Oh, how appealing it sounded! Hopefully, nobody would object to the idea.

"Ah? Erm, actually, do you think we can stop here for a bit and buy something to eat?" The uncertainty was less pronounced than earlier, but undoubtedly there.

A half-hearted glare found its way to the boy, sent express from the troll hiding in his hood a foot away. Seriously? Couldn't these morons get over with it and let him prepare to toil away in peace? This felt like stalling to the criminal. It was fucking annoying.

His relentless and greedy stomach protested otherwise, grumbling at the smell of fresh food. Was that - was that meat he smelled? Or cheese? He couldn't even remember the last time he tasted good meat. Torturous, since the kid would obviously get his delicious lunch with his recovered pocket change and leave him to wait. And he couldn't even get anything, not without money or with all these _witnesses_.

He'd be silent, though. Maybe he'd get something if he just behaved for one second. Maybe this kid was going to be especially merciful today.

The guard looked slightly more disapprovingly at the two teenagers, but nodded, eager to get rid of the two twerps. He'd report to the other watchman at the gates, and there'd be no hope of the criminal he'd caught running away if the only exit was sealed.

"Ten minutes, don't let 'im outta yer sight," he hissed at the kid, shoving the two youth through the gate's entrance and immediately calling over the gate-guard.

The kid could only nod and avoid protesting as he suddenly found himself pushed into the market. The first thing to do was cast a careful glance towards the other boy with him.

With a start, he realized he just made another mistake; one that could actually happen. He was pretty much alone with his angry attacker!

He didn't even know his name, let alone his thoughts. Not to mention he had genuine motive to exact revenge, like in one of his action novels. What if he decided to gut the guy who put him in this mess right here and now? He had really sharp nails! He could do it if he wanted to!

_No, no,_ the nobleman thought. _If he wanted to gut me, he'd have done it already. It's been a few seconds. So far, I wasn't attacked, therefore he won't hurt me!_

God, he hoped he was right.

The second thing to do was nervously smile at the suspect and try to let go of that sneaking fear! He wanted to be on good relations with his staff, and judging them to have low morals wasn't exactly a good way of going about it. Diplomacy was the best option.

"So, do you want anything?" asked the boy. "I was thinking we could buy some fish and oranges, or grapes, but you might have different tastes…"

The thief addressed slowly turned to his companion, rubbing his wrist a little from being grabbed so firmly. The hustle and bustle around him was ignored. After all, why was this kid being so…nice to him today?

Oh, wait. The derp obviously just assumed he snuck in some coins or something. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

"I don't have any gogdamn money, in case you haven't gotten it into your cranial cavity that I tried to rob you for an actual reason," he snapped, keeping his voice at a raspy whisper.

The boy cringed a little at the remark, but otherwise disregarded it to be his way of showing he was offended. Fine, he deserved that. How could he forget?

"Of course!" Shaking his head, he whipped out his pouch and rifled through its contents as hurriedly as he had the first time. In stark contrast, the kid actually managed to not spill it in public. Instead, he pulled out a medium-sized bronze coin and held it out to the boy opposite him.

"I _was_ planning on buying food for the both of us, though I don't really know what you like." A breathy, slightly nervous laugh was let out by the derp. "I like the oranges when they're there, and maybe you'd have wanted a few, too. But you can decide for yourself!"

The only expression on the thief's face was unreadable disgust as he glanced from the outstretched money to the boy's face. He didn't take pity money, that was for stupid wrigglers who couldn't - oh. He mentally pulled back, recalling just how different troll pity was from human pity. It was best to stay off that track.

"I…I'll just take whatever you get, I don't give half a shit," he hastily replied, his eyes dropping to the passerby's choice of fine footwear.

The human was confused. A curious look directed toward the street guy fled instantly. "Okay, then…"

He closed his palm and pocketed the coin before fumbling with his wallet's closing clasp. Was his new employee embarrassed? He couldn't tell squat with that hood shadowing the guy's face. Undoubtedly, this needed an actual icebreaker.

"Wow. We haven't really met, huh?" A smile made its way to the boy's face, seeing as bringing out his hand to shake didn't look like a good idea. "That won't work. We can't be 'business partners' without knowing each others' names! I'm John!"

The hooded stranger crossed his arms over his chest, studying the John twerp's overly friendly introduction. He had his stupid little human heart set on friends, huh? Fine. He'd play along for now, though he guaranteed it wouldn't work out.

"…Karkat," he muttered, wondering for a second if John would recognize it from the few wanted posters in the hundreds of nearby towns.

"Uh, yes?"

"My name."

"Oh!"

John took a bit of time to process this information, but in the end he was amused by how strange Karkat's name sounded. It was befitting, and foreign, and it was _weird_!

"Whoa!" His grin grew wider. "I've never heard a name like that! I guess I wouldn't have, since I haven't really been out of this part of Prospit, anyways. You're probably not from here, though! Maybe Karkat is a common name there. I've never been there, so I can't really say anything about that. But, damn, it's really original _here_!"

At the last word, he managed to finally clamp his mouth shut before he babbled any further. Stupid interesting foreign names!

To get his mind off the proper pronunciations of _Kahr-khat_ and the like, John decided to try and remember what he specifically wanted to buy. The first thing his darting gaze made him recall was that he really wanted oranges. Quickly, John dashed to the stand and picked up an orange before handing the stall's owner his pocketed coin. The worker silently took the coin, leaving the boy one fruit richer and two shillings poorer.

"Want some?" he offered to Karkat.

Karkat wasn't exactly ecstatic at the moment, seeing as he nearly popped a muscle-attached ocular viewing sphere from enduring the John derp's brainless ramble over his name. He had to bite back a smile-wiping response. John clearly didn't have the slightest idea of what his name even _meant_.

The offer of fruit, however, distracted him from his stewing rage. Really, anything edible sounded good right about now, why was he even asking?

"I guess," he relented, punctuating his statement by turning towards the human.

"Great!" came the chirrup in response.

John was still sounding out Karkat's name in his head as he tried to peel the orange. His freshly-cut nails proved a disadvantage as the fruit slipped about wildly in his hands. A few more tries and an embarrassed giggle later, he gave up and held it out to Karkat. His hands were not cooperating with him today!

"Now…well, uh, could you peel it? Please?" It was obvious that he was a little nervous as he asked.

Karkat said nothing, only scowled as he took the orange in his hands. Troll claws and years of similar, just-as-menial practice let him peel it with the best of precision, taking off the peel in one try.

He dropped the peeled orange back into John's outstretched hand, not looking up from the orange skin fisted in his spare hand.

John had not ignored what had just occurred. His curiosity led him to notice that Karkat had really rough, calloused hands, like he'd been working his whole life. They moved surprisingly quickly, too. What really jumped out at him was the tinge, though.

It was a completely unmistakable gray.

For the life of him, John almost couldn't imagine how a guy his age would get such greyed out hands. Was it really a thin layer of dirt? The Veil was pretty unclean, from what he'd seen, and people didn't bathe more than once a week around here. Though, he wasn't sure Karkat had the resources to have running water…

He just barely acknowledged that the orange was dropped into his palm. Now cautious due to his greyness theories, John looked it over very carefully. The quick examination revealed it to be pretty much clean and properly peeled. John's response was a broad grin.

"Thanks!" he added.

He broke the flesh of the fruit in half and handed the slightly larger portion to Karkat for his valiant efforts. Okay, maybe he'd misjudged his new employee. It was a little weird talking to him, him being grumpy and vaguely greyish and all, but it wasn't that bad! This could have been a blessing in disguise, and John just needed to acknowledge it!


	4. Thick As Syrup

Good morning/evening/afternoon/jeez, whatever wherever you are!

I'm really glad you readers like the story so far! I promised more chapters sooner, so I did just that! This actually is longer. By about one word. As the story progresses faster and faster, it's getting harder to expand the moments!

I had to do quite a bit of research on Renaissance money and values, as well as Renaissance concepts for this part of the story. I hope you appreciate the effort, and see it as a recognizable Renaissance!

Please do review if you like the story, don't be afraid to critique if you feel I need to improve on anything!

_Disclaimer: Holy Cheesus Crust, surely you understand that I do not own Homestuck no matter how much I'd like to. This Homestuck AU does belong to CrowsGurl and convivialGrimace, though!_

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><p>John started pulling each orange segment apart from his half of the fruit in advance as he spoke.<p>

"It's really juicy and sweet, so try to savor it! When I first tried these oranges, I liked them so much that I couldn't stop eating them! Although, I guess I still can't. Heh."

Upon finishing his statement, the kid popped an orange slice into his mouth and smiled politely, though the sheer enthusiasm was written all over his face.

"Yeah, okay," Karkat muttered, not having anything to add. Not even he could control his eyes awkwardly shooting off to the side. To appease John, he pulled off a thin slice of his portion and ate it. It took a few moments for him to realize he recognized it.

He'd tasted these a long time ago. He was certain of it. The memory was faint and had faded away almost to the point of being forgotten, but he still had it.

Nowadays, what with his_ prosperous and comfortable lifestyle_, his mouth was so dry that he couldn't taste any more than a general echo of his mouth. The unmistakable acidic burn on the sores in his mouth was a satisfactory enough deviation from the norm.

_Not bad_, he decided.

John, himself, had quickly finished off his part of the orange despite his warning to Karkat. He shifted his gaze towards his new employee. Karkat was being a little distant as he ate, prompting a secondary smile from the boy. He liked it! That was definitely a good thing.

It took him a few moments to recall that he also had intentions to buy smoked fish. Immediately, his eyes darted around, scanning for the smoked fish which had to be there. The guard probably wouldn't be that patient and let them stay for much longer, and John didn't think he'd let them ask for more time there. If the guard came right there and then, they'd have to eat on the way home. At least it'd be something, jeez. Missing dinner really sucked.

The boy couldn't help but wonder if Karkat even ate fish. He had no idea if it'd be fine or if maybe more fruit would be better. Preparing himself, he pulled out his wallet once more and pulled out a grand total of ten pence, leaving it completely empty. It wasn't even a shilling. Fine, it'd have to do for now, they could buy a few more bites with it.

"I guess I'll just buy some fish, then. Uh, do you eat it? I heard some people don't and I don't know if you're such a person or not." John trailed off.

"I eat whatever the fuck's available. I can't afford to be picky, you know," came the annoyed remark. In Karkat's distraction, some of the sour orange juice met a split part of his inner lip. He didn't wince.

"Oh! Great!" John happily responded. "I know you'll like this. I used to get smoked fish all the time when I was little, probably even more than oranges."

Karkat sighed a bit, feeling an itch of irritation at the cheerful mentions of the past. _His_ past was one to be avoided at all costs. Fucking reality.

Meanwhile, the boy had already hastily paid the merchant, who nodded and handed him a dried, smoked perch. This, too, John broke into half, handing Karkat the slightly smaller portion this time. Hopefully, he'd be forgiven. Hopefully, his wallet would forgive him, too. He was now broke until he could get the rest of his pocket change from home.

By the time John returned, the orange had been completely eaten, without any trace of it left. Just the sight of it was pride-inducing. Money well spent.

The fish-half outstretched to Karkat was not inviting in the least. In truth, he'd spent so much of his life eating so little, that orange was enough to tide him over for the rest of the day. This was just _human pity_ food being offered to him. He didn't take pity donations, what kind of a wriggler would he be if he did?

The look of disappointment on that moron's face would just be sickening, though. Not to mention that money he'd have used for other things would be wasted. Irritatingly, the only thing to do was humor the guy. Karkat picked a piece off with his claws and put it into his mouth before taking the entire half of the fish with his free hand. It only sank in his stomach, but he feigned hunger and kept picking at it.

He was supposed to, wasn't he?

John took the opportunity to swoop in and sit beside him, taking a large bite of the fish as he did so. Within mere moments, it was all gone, and the stomach holding it satisfied. Karkat didn't seem to be as enthusiastic about the fish as he was the orange, eating it piece by piece the way John did with his dad's baking when he was little. (Okay, he didn't like that scary-ass lady Betty Crocker's cakes, is that so bad?)

He'd gone hungry for less time than Karkat did, but he was the one quickly devouring his snacks. How weird was that? Wouldn't he want to eat as much as a whole horse after not eating for one week (he hoped that was right)?

"You can just finish off that fish if you want, I guess. When that guard comes, we can get you to my house, and I'll get you a new set of clothes. How long are you supposed to stay with me, two months? That'll be a while!"

The torrent of Egbertian speech let itself loose from the excitement and anticipation. Just the sheer hype was near unbearable. The overbite prominently showed itself off between sentences.

Karkat only sighed, offering John the rest of the fish when his malnourished innards straight-out refused to have anything more to do with it. Nothing_ important _that he had to communicate came to mind.

"Yeah," Karkat murmured flatly.

He supposed his job meant no arguments with his boss (that felt incredibly wrong, but what was he to do?), no matter how stupid and overly-optimistic his opinions and remarks were. A perfectly reasonable thought, and perhaps it was true. 'Better safe than sorry' was repeating itself over and over in Karkat's head each time he only took the effort to mutter one syllable in response.

To make things even better, the troll kept getting this stupid feeling in his gut when he looked over at the grinning human beside him. What the fuck was that supposed to be?

It had to be the meal. There was no other explanation. He forced that feeling down with the rest of the fishy aftertaste in his mouth and averted his eyes. Hopefully, next time they even made contact, he wouldn't be stuck with that…that aggravating, stifling feeling. It was sickening just having it.

John turned his head back to Karkat to give an encouraging smile, but quickly snapped his expression to that of puzzlement. He was holding out the fish? Wasn't he hungry? The boy's gaze snapped from Karkat's face, to the fish's, then back to Karkat's, before tentatively taking his offering. He didn't eat it immediately, though. He was confused!

Of course, he couldn't show that. It wouldn't be very professional. A near-innocent smile plastered itself onto his features, quickly covering up any sign of anything otherwise. Karkat didn't seem to have noticed, all was good.

"I do think you might like it here! I have some really good chefs, and my tailor's really cool, too! Looks like we've missed the soup, but we can still get settled and find some time to get you introduced to everyone," John finished the sentence by biting off a part of the fish, thus shutting him up for the moment.

Karkat's only response was an involuntary sniff. Clearly, he was _just as enthusiastic_ about…whatever the hell John was talking about, his house? He idly adjusted his slightly frayed sleeves in a slight nervous tick. When would John decide to call over that bastard guard so they could leave already? He didn't want to listen to John blabber on and on about his house and the people inside it. Getting over with it sounded appealing to the vagrant, too.

John, in stark contrast, was not being very satisfactory to anyone around him wanting him to get up and leave. He was taking his sweet time with the dried perch, having forgotten what he wanted to say. The only thing to do was look up at the sky.

It was a little dim out, leaving the market to be cast in more shadow than there had been when the duo arrived. A few pedestrians had cleared out, though the market seemed to be more active, with the customers eager to get in their purchases before closing hours. This day was a rare one, with the moon visible at the same time as the sun. The moon was much dimmer and less pronounced than the sun, however, and almost seemed to be trying to hide in the sky. Darkness would lure it out soon enough, and then the streets would be cloaked in black shadows thick as syrup.

Fuck! John noticed just how dark it was, he needed to go fast if he wanted to get home as fast as possible!

The look he gave Karkat was completely apologetic as he stood up to look for the guard while it was still light out. The look Karkat gave him was completely irritated.

"Heh. I guess we should really get going, then, before it gets dark and you can't see anything," John let out his sentence in one breath, his eyes scrambling to locate their bulky safeguard. Where was he? They had to get home as soon as possible!

There he was. John let out a deep breath and Karkat groaned at the sight of the rotund man stomping his way over into view. John couldn't believe he'd missed him when he'd been so obvious with his silhouette.

"Whoa! Yeh kids oughta be there right about now. How'd I ever forget to shoo yah outta here sooner?" His sentences were technically addressed to the duo, but the guard was facing John, for the most part.

The great man's head craned to look at Karkat, sneering as it did so. "And when yah get there, we best not catch yeh again, or we won't be so lenient!"

The stout man wasted no time in grabbing the two boys' wrists, recovering as they were, and thundering out of the Prospit market. John was leading again, making the occasional "turn here" remark when he wasn't casting frantic glances at his new associate.

"Don't worry, I don't plan on stickin' around," spat Karkat at the guard. The sentry's iron grip on his wrist hurt like hell, but he wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of his complaints. Instead, he placed his other hand on his sleeve, clenching it tightly and releasing a rasping sigh.

He kept his eyes averted, unlike his human companion. No, fuck, those ocular viewing spheres were not going anywhere near John, he was not going to encourage those horrible little wingbeasts in his gut to go on a little wingbeast frenzy. His hand took a break from grasping his robe to rub his forehead in irritation as he felt the human's intent gaze on him once more.

The guard only gave Karkat a reproving look before soldiering on. Just one more street, maybe three, and he'd finally be free of these brats whom he felt deserved the glory of his mercy. At least, one of them, and that kid also happened to be higher up on the social ladder than he was. Goddamnit.

John felt slightly disappointed to be avoided by Karkat upon separation. They had just been getting acquainted! This was quickly alleviated when he found he recognized the neighborhood he lived in, and even one of the neighbors (who was giving a funny look, okay, then)!

Kanaya had to have been worried sick about him. John knew it'd all be fine, since he came home alive and well and even brought along a new friend! Maybe there wasn't any bread, but it's not like they ever really ate it, so that wasn't a problem.

He tried to look at his friend encouragingly, but Karkat's gaze never met his. Maybe Karkat didn't actually like him, or was just reluctant about these things. John supposed he'd be reluctant, if he were in Karkat's position at the moment. Right now, though, his only emotion was euphoria at finally arriving!

"We're almost there!" exclaimed the human. "I can see it from here!"

Turning his head in the direction of his house, he beamed. The houses all looked similar, with their white stone walls and tar-black roofs, but John saw them as all a little different. He knew his house on sight, because the bushes in the front had blue flowers, and no other house along that area had them.

True, these houses were about one quarter of a mile apart, but John still liked to think of them as neighboring houses. Even if they were a little far apart.

The problem was that though his houses were fairly far apart, he was even farther away from his friends, who lived in all different parts of town so that it never made anything easy. Meeting them was entirely a lucky chance sort of thing; the closely-knit friend-circle'd never have happened otherwise, what with their locations. They were his best friends, but they were just too far to conveniently visit.

All those times he prayed his friends could live closer to him seemed to have gone unheard; but they hadn't, and John did know that. If Karkat would be his friend, then that'd be one childhood dream fulfilled.

Not to mention, it'd just be really nice to get along swimmingly with all his employees.

Karkat gave exactly one quarter of a shit towards all this drama. A barely heard "_great_" escaped his lips as he surveyed his new and luxurious prison.

He wasn't looking forward to this at all, being stuck in a house with that brat and probably some meddlesome (if not downright hateful) staff. And, okay, even if the John human was going to be this gracious all the time and not suffer some severe mood swings, if he'd ever gather up the courage to pull back his hood, then not even the ever-loving God out there could help him avoid a perfectly reasonable culling.

Being a troll was worse than being a thief, and not even John would avoid being an exception to that school of thought. Obviously. In all his life, Karkat had never met anyone with less than a reproachful disdain towards trollkind.

A quiet, slightly weighted sigh was let out as Karkat lowered his head, causing his hood to slump down further over his features. He closed his eyes as he blindly followed the guard's forcefully guiding grip. He had already been following blindly before, and only now he was making it official.

What now?


	5. We Could Be Friends

Woot! Happy midnight/daylight/sunlight/moonlight/candlelight/l ightbulblight or whatever form of light you're reading this by right now!

I'm elated that this story's getting any reviews at all, and for that, I'm grateful, too! This chapter is at least 800 words longer than the previous one, now with 50% more fluff and 25% more angst, all for the same price.

I did so much research for this, you don't understand. I researched a lot, and I'd love it if you reviewed or even favorited the story if you like it so far.

The chapter title is derived from Freelance Whales' song, We Could Be Friends, because I'm an obvious little shit like that!

_Disclaimer: No, just, I'm not bothering with cleverness now. Not now. Homestuck is Hussie's, this AU is equally CrowsGurl's and convivialGrimace's._

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><p>John was oblivious to his friend's vision-impairment plight. He had vision problems of his own, his semi-custom spectacles (which weren't cheap, even for an Earl) being an obvious sign of that. No, he was oblivious for an entirely different reason. He was very much busy taking in the sight of home, sweet home!<p>

Even the guard had stopped in his tracks, idly opening the gate and not even feigning an attempt to slam Karkat into it. The sentry's inference was correct; John was not short on money, it seemed.

The neighborhood the boy was in dramatically differed from the Veil in its clean streets, fresh cobblestones, and gilded (the guard had to crane his neck to get a closer look, could it be true?) gates. Not that gilding mattered to anyone but gate enthusiasts. The sheer luxury of it was all that it took to nearly send the two lowerclassmen to their feet.

John, being happily used to such pleasantries, simply beamed and dragged the guard to the front door. He had to get there quicker already, he wanted to get home and _oh let Karkat in too I want him to meet Kanaya and Equius and Nepeta and get ready for tomorrow since it's going to be a big day oh man oh jeez I can't wait. _In all his excitement, nobody thought to stop him from abusing the knocker.

A lone troll woman in the house was preoccupied with her stitching. John really did mess up the clothes' seams more often than the lady would have liked to admit. She didn't mind, since she enjoyed her work, but her boss really needed to be careful with his garments. They were fragile and not meant for his daily meandering about town.

Speaking of her boss, she was worried. He hadn't come home yet, and it was already very much late. Even more so than usual. To say that she had no cause to be anxious would be a flat-out lie.

Karkat hissed a little upon being dragged to the doorstep and made one last attempt to wrench his wrist free of the guard's iron grip. This was surprisingly successful, and made the troll buckle a little from the force he used. A bruise settled itself on his silver skin where he'd been freed.

He crossed his arms tight over his chest, hiding his hurt hands in his armpits for warmth. The night was settling in, which meant the wind came out to play and lightly nip at the skin of fabrics and living creatures. Not everything could be attributed to the weather, though, as the troll-in-hiding let out a huff at the sight of the human's living conditions.

This twerp was so far over him on the echeladder, it was downright dizzying.

Karkat sighed, letting out some breath through his nose as he ground his teeth together trying to keep quiet. Actually, it wasn't so hard. He had nothing to say; there was nothing useful or vaguely interesting to add, and his luck had left him speechless.

Seriously, how did he end up in this situation? Oh, right, he decided to stick around after his little innocent mugging. Fuck.

John wasn't looking at Karkat's little emotional turmoil at all. He was busy with his own moment. Busy being busy with it!

The door opened in front of him, just missing his nose by less than an inch. Immediately, the faint scent of soup rushed towards him. A slightly stricken look was painted on the tailor's face, and the house was a little too disorderly to properly have guests (but surely Karkat wouldn't mind, being on the streets recently and all), but otherwise it was very much acceptable. It was home; what more could anyone want?

The stone walls radiated with warmth, despite the ever-present windy chill drifting in the air.

"Where have you been, sir?" the troll girl immediately probed. Her clear, patient tone almost suggested indifference, but John knew better than that. "You were away for much too long. You've missed dinner...and you've also brought someone with you. Two someones?" Her worried gaze shifted to the guard and Karkat, who was staring at the ground with an intense fury, trying to keep from making a sound. John only blushed. Shit, this was not looking good at all.

Thankfully, the guard saw it in his job description to explain, if not somewhat nervously: whether it was due to her trollish nature or her gaze was uncertain. "Tha' boy got this guy" - he shook Karkat as emphasis - "on the cleanin' crew now. He's makin' up fer 'is crime, fer 'ow long, I can't say. Can yeh believe it; this vagrant tried to rob yer boss out in broad daylight!"

The guard let out a hearty chuckle, which only served to elicit a reproving look from the troll girl. His laughter quickly died down.

John was sheepish; maybe he hadn't thought this through so well, and actually, now that he thought about it, it was really obvious that his staff wasn't going to react well to their boss bringing in a mugger and a guard and telling them the mugger is now on their staff. Oops.

"Well, uh, sorry, he, uh, he didn't look like he'd survive in the dungeons. That'd kinda be bad. So I, well, brought him here and…" he trailed off because the woman was already shaking her head.

"John Egbert," she began, preparing to trail into a long speech. However, upon another glance at the awkward trio, the troll girl gave up, instead resignedly accepting the fate given to her.

She could hardly object to the law, even if John had goofed trying to bend it. Clearly, he was already old enough to marry, with his own suitors, so he'd have to live with his choices. She could not meddle forever, as much as she liked to.

"I hope you trust him," came the final word, before the female was walking away briskly.

The door remained open.

Karkat and the guard had been pretty much silent throughout the entire ordeal, with John being reduced to nodding as she left. _Okay,_ John thought, _She was maybe a little guilt-inducing when she was upset, she didn't deserve something like that. But neither did Karkat, really. Right?_

Behind the duo, the guard quickly muttered something about paperwork and returning to check on the kids sometime soon, preferably when that lady wasn't around, before clumsily slamming the door. It made Karkat stiffen like a cat from surprise.

He didn't look up from the floor. With a determined fury, he was gritting his teeth to the point where it cut the end of his tongue, making the copper tang of blood seep from it. It made him flinch for a second.

Just as quickly, his gaze slipped over to his new boss, who was still being a ditz even after taking that…moment seriously. Ugh, now what?

"So," Karkat started, his icy glare still set on John.

"Yeah," John wittily responded.

"Hm," came the grunted reply.

A moment of silence took place. It was disappointing that his most beloved staff member didn't react as well as John'd hoped, but he hoped that would soon turn around. And maybe _he'd_ warm to Karkat a little better, too.

"We should probably get you to your room, then." John turned his head to the aforementioned employee, who looked pretty uncomfortable in his spot. "I'll let you choose from the spares I have. Even with my employees, this house is still a little too big for me."

As he spoke, the boy headed through the corridor, signaling to Karkat to follow.

The troll wrung his hands together behind his back as he trailed along, gaze shifting uncomfortably from side to side before he raised his eyes to John's. His expression, obscured behind his hood, was mostly unreadable.

"I don't care." he replied flatly. "Put me wherever you have to so I can get this asinine shit over with."

John looked at Karkat quizzically, unable to comprehend why he'd settle for anything when he was given a choice. He wasn't even going to do anything today. John sure would have chosen a room for himself if he was in his employee's place! Okay, they _were_ all pretty much the same, but still.

"Okay, then. I'll just give you this one, then." John pointed to a room seemingly nonchalantly, yet being unable to stifle a snicker. He turned his head towards his employee to give a reassuring grin, but Karkat only looked confused, and fairly agitated.

John just barely managed to avoid giggling. He added, "It's not exactly like they're all that different, anyways. It's all a matter of location. Also, are we getting you new clothes?"

"No. I'm enough in fucking debt as is." Karkat leaned against the wall aloofly before turning his gaze back to John in a fit of bravado, "I don't want to have to owe you my undying, pitiful soul, too."

"Huh? What 'undying, pitiful soul'? I'm the one that got you in this mess, Karkat. And I don't mean to be rude, but it's kinda obvious that you need that money more than I do."

John looked towards Karkat's cloak and felt a little twinge of pity. All he knew was that he felt sorry for the guy. He wasn't supposed to take in a guy off the streets by force and then put him to work, but that stupid twinge made him do it. Granted, death was the alternative, but wasn't it still wrong?

"Don't fucking worry your pretty rich boy head off. You didn't get me into shit," Karkat replied snappily. "I'm the idiot who didn't leave, god knows why. If I needed those shitty metal circles so badly, I should've acted accordingly. Begged or something. It's my fault and naturally, I have to pay the price."

John was curious about that particular event, and still a bit jumpy, but he decided it was too soon to push it. It wasn't that natural to be chatting with a guy who mugged you, or one whom you mugged, probably.

"Don't be like that. You're not the only one who goofed! So it's not like you should feel guilty about asking for anything from me. I don't mind. Heh." John quirked his head up and suddenly raised his index finger, as if he had just come up with a revolutionary new idea. "Think of it as a favor from a friend!"

"I don't have _friends_, moron." Growling, the troll gave John a dead glare. Even that primordial ooze of a human ought to get the idea that friends were a touchy subject coming from a street urchin.

"And whatever, I don't need anything. If you could leave me alone as much as possible, that'd be_ just swell_."

His eyes shot off to the side again, a tinge of guilt in the gesture. That statement would hurt John's weak heart, and he'd probably be offended by such displays of "aggression towards his master". Great. He just wanted to slink away and get back to his life instead of be stuck disappointing his employer…shit, he just disappointed his employer.

He was going to die here within the first week, he was certain of it.

John only turned the corners of his lips up - he didn't quite smile - in sympathy. At least, for a moment. The meaning of Karkat's words quickly sunk in. Karkat didn't have friends, and sure as hell didn't want to be his friend.

Of course a dweeb like him wouldn't be an exception. He'd probably been nothing more than cumbersome. What was he even thinking? Stupid, stupid, stupid! Karkat's supposed to be his...his reluctant _slave!_

Suddenly, John couldn't wait for the self-inflicted sentence to be over. His eyes darted toward the floor awkwardly and the smile wiped itself off his face. He was going to die from embarrassment and shame in the very first week, he just knew it!

"Oh. Uhm. Well. Still, if you ever need me."

The human gave an empty glance. He didn't cry; he didn't try to; there was nothing to cry about, that'd just be stupid! But it hurt a little, for him and Karkat.

Karkat, meanwhile, had started rationalizing his scathing remark, and found he couldn't. Instead, he slipped into something more comfortable. Self-hatred. He was no stranger to it.

The human's expression was just downright pitiful. It made the guilt settle thick in Karkat's stomach. He muttered a word that might have been "quarry" or "starry" or even "sorry" under his breath as if it helped anything, but he didn't feel any better.

John had only heard a sort of raspy sound in response.

It might have been "quarry" or "starry" or even "sorry", but he couldn't be sure he even heard it. Karkat wouldn't apologize, right? He was hearing things, duh.

Just the thought that he could was strange, though. For lack of better words.

At the moment, Karkat knew all about having a lack of better words.

"I'm not what you'd call 'friend material', dumbass," he added, though even that came off more self-scorning than angry. Augh, why was his past self such an idiot?

"Aw, Karkat. Jeez, what a downer," he joked weakly. "I don't think you're that bad. I'd still be your friend, even after you, er, tried to take my money and all, 'stead of asking. I guess I forgive you for that."

John was lying. He didn't actually mind all that much. Money was replaceable, and it's not like he did much with it anyways. The only thing that really mattered while being mugged was getting home in one piece, which he did.

Karkat felt even more guilty, though. Not to mention angry. It'd be so much easier to be mad at John if he'd just _be rude right back_. Fuel the flames of a platonic kismessitude and leave their relationship like that. It would be simple and none would give a shit about the other in the end.

So of course, John had to play the good guy and still be civil after a guy mugs him, uses up his money, then tells him to go away like he's in a higher position than him! He just had to be nice, make Karkat want to trust him, even though Karkat's just another piece of trash he found on the street and he's this Earl of Some Shit In Some Part Of Skaia Oh I'm So Rich Look At Me. He hated those kinds of people. Like it or not, they were rubbing their superiority in his face.

Still...despite thief's instinct, the thought that John forgave him was slightly appealing, and would one-quarter of the way explain this kindness lavished upon him. Even though forgiveness seemed further away than the sun that this stupid Earth orbited around. He'd control himself, just for the moment. Besides, the thought of John's reaction was just too amusing to pass up.

"You should have seen your squishy face," he teased quietly, hands unclasping behind his back, fingers red from the strain. "God, you'd have thought I was going to _kill_ you or some hircine shit like that."

Despite the fact that he was making fun of John, there was something about his tone that conveyed it was more of a friendly sort of teasing. He, of course, conveniently left out just how much pity the boy's expression had managed to milk from the troll.

"Wha-hey!" John flustered a little in his shock. "My face was _completely_ full of _mangrit_! So much mangrit! You don't even know!"

Oh, his employee's strategy was cold and cruel. Get John weakened, then usurp his mangrit right before his very eyes. Not this time, foul vagrant!

He wanted to make a witty retort, but he quickly discovered that he couldn't. He didn't have any acceptable dirt on Karkat. Nothing came to mind at all! He'd have to fix that, by either getting Karkat to change his mind or something. He was the master prankster, newest in the Egbert legacy, and nobody could think otherwise. Absolutely nobody.

Though, John had to admit that Karkat's teasing was a little funny. And probably not mean, this time. There was no venom there. Public pranking favor went a few begrudging nudges in Karkat's direction.

"What the hell is _mangrit?_" Karkat asked in a mixture of amusement and perplexion, biting back a snicker as he watched John's face redden. He also felt a little more casual, causing him to drop some shields. Not many, but some, which was an accomplishment in itself.

"It's only the manliness of a manly man! And I just have the most. Because I'm the manliest."

"Wha-"

"All the ladies swoon on sight, there's just so much mangrit! So much going around! Maybe if you're nice, I'll even let you take a look at the guns themselves."

"I don't fucking see ju-"

John flexed his spindle-thin arms as if it proved his point and flashed Karkat the easy grin that he'd practiced in his mirror for hours the week before.

Karkat snorted, at first, then when John kept doing it, he snorted some more, and since John just wouldn't fucking stop, Karkat damn near lost it, letting a rasping sort of roar loose - behind his hand to hide his sharper and suspicious teeth - and bending down as if doubling over in laughing-induced stomach pain.

(It didn't do much, considering that while his fanged overbite wasn't exactly invisible, it was by no means as prominent as John's dental monstrosity of a maxilla.)

Oh, yes, John was dead serious about his mangrit. The only thing ruining that was the blush on his cheeks. Otherwise, he'd just be so manly-looking, he'd probably make the women crawl into his house through the windows by the herds. For the sake of dear, sweet Karkat's pride, it was better this way. They just wouldn't be able to handle this gorgeous miracle of nature right here!

"Yeah, sure, whatever you say, you fucking moron," Karkat managed to eke out amid his chuckles. He had to suppress the urge to pinch the human's squishy (why did all humans look so squishy?) cheek for the strangest reason. Stupid echoes of pity.

"Exactly!" John triumphantly exclaimed, basking in the glow of supreme mangrit and discarding Karkat's insults.

It was rapidly interrupted when he thought to turn his head toward the window; it was pure black, their only source of light a torch hanging off the stony wall behind John. The boy jumped a little, his grin shrinking and his eyes widening.

"Oh god, it's really dark, isn't it?" came the panicked response.

Karkat shrugged dismissively, looking at the window. "And? Your point being what, douchelord of incredible insight?"

"Kanaya's going to kill us if she catches us up so late, Karkat! It's not like it's normal, being awake at pitch black!"

"Right, and this is where not being nocturnal like a decent being helps anyone. Seriously, I'm pretty much nocturnal and from what I can tell, being otherwise is a shit way of living."

Right after his statement, however, the disappearance of John's _mesmerizing_ smile seemed to snap Karkat back into the reality of what was going on here. He was a mutant troll in the presence of a rich human he was temporarily enslaved to. This was incredibly socially taboo, not to mention it was supposed to be kept to a minimum so they could get on with their lives soon after.

"No way! Everyone here's like…the reverse of nocturnal! Diurnal! Aaand that includes me, fuck!" The last word was sworn in a whisper after a second eyeshift to the window. It was _really_ dark, he had to go to bed immediately.

"Like I said, shit way of living. Idiot." Karkat said, voice dropping to a rasping mutter and scowl reasserting its position on his face.

John shook his head, clearly losing the mental battle to stay up.

"Asshole. You should sleep, too. If you haven't heard, Kanaya has this nasty saw, and I don't want anyone to find out what exactly she does with it."

He gave Karkat a warm, genuine smile before slipping into his room, his shoed feet making a slight clack in the doorway. He turned around, looked a little longer at the scowling Karkat to preserve the moment, hesitated before closing the door.

With the slam of the door came a casual, "good night!"

This was quickly followed with footsteps, probably John changing out of his garb and into sleepwear the way nobles did.

A small voice in the back of Karkat's head emphasized the fact that he hadn't locked the door. Karkat shook it out of his head with a multitude of swears directed towards his brain. It wasn't like some derpy wriggler like John would even take such a precaution if he managed to get lost in the Veil. Not to mention he was being too damn pitying and too fucking nice. What an asshole.

It was infuriating, irritating, and maybe a bit pitiable. Just a little bit pitiable, though. Seriously, it was usually annoying how bubbly the idiot was.

Shaking the thought off, the troll gingerly pulled his cloak off, laying it neatly beside the bed for curling up in the blanket, making sure he was completely buried underneath it. Surprise awakenings, his ass.

John had, in fact, changed into his pajamas, which were light and breezy and yet incredibly warming for the chilly nights. His entire form collapsed into the bed, hand reaching for his spectacles to place them on his nightstand. Deciding to forgo getting up and obtaining a night cap, he pondered his newest addition to the staff.

Karkat was grouchy. Karkat was touchy. Karkat swore…a lot, actually, but John didn't really mind because Dave swore a lot, too. And Karkat wore that patchy robe, which really had to go, it was filthy. Or at least be washed. More likely, they'd have to buy a new one.

Also, Karkat didn't seem to like taking help? That was perplexing to John; why wouldn't he? Anyone else he knew would gladly snatch up the opportunity.

Yet, there were more perplexing matters. Like how he didn't actually mind Karkat all that much. They could be buddies, maybe, if Karkat would actually accept it.

With that thought in mind, John conked out. For the first time in a while, he had no dreams. And that was okay.

Karkat curled in so close on himself that his head was between his knees and his arms held tight about his legs. He wasn't used to having safe surroundings and a warm bed, and it served to keep him in an anxious state of half-alertness.

By this point, though, his thoughts were nothing more than a jumbled clusterfuck shoved into a nook somewhere in his thinkpan. He didn't care to think over his situation more than he already had, just for the sake of not stressing himself out earlier, or figuring out things he thought best left unanswered.

All he could do was try to force himself into relaxation for the first time in sweeps and wait out the night. So that's what he did.


	6. Enlighten Me

Hey, how about that, happy moon/sun/lamp/candle/computer/night/salad-dressing -light or any other form of light you have!

Wow, this is definitely the longest chapter so far with almost _seven thousand words_! Good luck powering through this one quickly. Just so you know, I've read the comments, and that will be addressed soon. Very, very soon. Not to mention this cliffhanger is for the better, so I will properly write scenes of sucking face instead of cramming it into a chapter at twelve AM.

I've been absconding for over a week writing this monster and also rereading the John, Karkat, and Kanaya bits of Homestuck to better portray the characters. Some of this goes off on a tangent from the recent updates, see if you can catch them. This is starting to become a regular thing. Oops.

Please do leave a review or favorite (if you like the story!), no matter what your opinion, I still get excited each time I read a review and get that much more motivated. C:

I don't think I need to restate the disclaimer: Homestuck is Hussie's, this AU is convivialGrimace's and CrowsGurl's!

* * *

><p>There was still one person who definitely wasn't asleep, and her name was...<p>

Well, at any rate, there was one person who definitely wasn't asleep.

She had come into her onsite-tailor-service at least 6 sweeps ago, and entered the Egberts' employ only 5 sweeps ago. She was the seamstress, according to her job description. In actuality, there was much more to that. The woman was also the onsite mother, and the onsite advisor to John and his handful of staff. It didn't seem to matter that she was a troll; if anything, her capacity for growing horns only asserted _more_ authority.

The night was very much like any other. It would have been just that had not the day's events occurred.

The moments for casually listening in on John's conversation had passed, and now was the time for solitude.

The troll girl idly restitched a garment of the resident cook's, silently clucking to herself as she started a new backstitch. Suddenly, she paused. Despite her best efforts, the troll could not prevent the new addition of the new employee (what did John call him earlier, Kahcat? Karkat?) from creeping into her thinkpan.

"This will have to wait," she whispered to the unfinished garment before rolling it up.

Long since used to the unnatural solidity of the mattress, she crawled up under the covers and sighed. It appeared that she would be getting little sleep tonight, even for a troll.

Right, her newest coworker. What could she say? She didn't know what to think of him. The notion that...the _employee_ would complacently allow himself to be led here and then engage in friendly banter with her master was reassuring, but the fact still remained that he had to be escorted to this hive…er, house, by a guard. He had the audacity to try and mug her boss. Not to mention, he looked like the kind of guy who wore his hideous cloak because he stole it.

Her matesprit would likely have a better estimate of such things. Her intuition and experience had not failed her yet.

Undoubtedly, the female employee would have to fill her in on some bits: the fact that John had been mugged by the urchin may have been trivial, but the fact that John was also the one who managed to alleviate a punishment for him may not have been. If anything, it struck the woman as unusual. John was kind, and known for it, that was very much true.

However, this troll was well aware that he didn't typically bring home pickpockets more inclined by the law to be sentenced to dungeon. Nor would it be typical of him to decide it was completely rational, from the looks of it.

Something about the entire situation was fishy. She was very tempted to meddle for herself, though she knew it was not her God-given place to do so. Not with these circumstances. But still...

For unknown reasons, her garment-in-progress was unraveled and in her lap. Shaking her head at herself, she unrolled it and started up on the stitching once more, if only to mollify her mind.

She was worried about John, no doubt. What was John to expect from the former mugger? Would there be an incident inside the very house? Would the urchin fulfill his sentence and leave the…house in pristine condition, or would he try to escape and hurt anyone living in it? Questions battered down on her mind like hailstones, and she found herself half-hoping he'd just run away so none of them would have to be answered.

Of course, the woman couldn't kick him out. It was the law confining them, not John. Yet, the girl believed that it would have been much, much better for John to never have met his new employee.

A wave of guilt washed over the troll seamstress. Now that the two were fast asleep in their beds, it was too late for Kanaya to introduce herself properly. There'd have to be a bad impression on the new guy's mind for the time being. Hopefully, on John's daily visits, she'd be able to make a second, better impression, where she could possibly be considered innocuous enough to casually keep tabs if need be.

The troll was so busy thinking that she didn't notice she'd pricked her finger twice while putting the thread through the needle's eye.

Karkat had not been in the least bit asleep. If anything, just being in the room beside John made him sit up with a start.

His head popped out from beneath the blanket as he stared at the far wall, exposing the base of his nubby horns to the draft. The sensation derived tingled uncomfortably.

_Excellent_, he thought. _I get the chance to sleep, in a decent bed no less, yet it looks like day three without a visit from the fucking Human Sandman!_

All those _what ifs_ pooled in the back of the troll boy's mind to his distaste. They haunted him with the outcomes that could have been. What if the guard hadn't been so kind to John? What if Karkat did something worse than he already did? What if he did something even more regretful? What if John did fight back? What if Karkat had escaped on sight? What if he'd just ran off with the change and let the guard help the moaning idiot he'd robbed? What if nobody had been home when the three arrived?

What repeated itself in Karkat's head surprised him the most. _What if he'd been genuinely nice to John?_

The troll had no idea how he'd ever have managed it, but he found it'd lead to a favorable outcome. And also the most impossible one.

Even if John had gotten over his scathing remarks with a bit of joking around, he was certain John took it to heart. Because he just said the stupidest things, didn't he? Making it a point to be as honest as a thief can be and then saying some incredibly mean things was obviously his thing.

_He deserves better than me, doesn't he? _Karkat's mind shouted.

The only response was a chilling silence. The universe didn't have an answer to his question.

Frustrated, Karkat put the blanket over his head once more and tried to fall asleep. Maybe then, he'd be free from those thoughts floating about.

Safe.

The troll seamstress had not witnessed any of Karkat's mental dramas, or even his horns. She only sighed and licked her bleeding finger before picking up a spare bit of cloth. She wrapped it around her index finger gently before continuing her sewing.

It still hurt to work, even with the temporary medical aide. Resignedly, she rolled up the clothing, preparing to sleep. Her eyes slightly addled with sleep sugar, she rubbed her face and rolled around. Beds were of average quality, but did not compare to the refreshing comfort of recuperacoons.

A shame that she'd only been in a recuperacoon once.

Even then, her tiredness washed over in a sudden wave of drowsiness. She felt older than she really was, and nothing would be better than a bit of sleep. Counting the seconds away, the troll waited to drift into slumber. It took exactly six hundred twelve seconds.

For the night, her nightmares were tolerable. Just the thought that she'd have to live to see the morning was a good enough motivator to power through them.

* * *

><p>The first tendrils of dawn caught hold of the sky like a group of thick tentacles as the clacking of a young woman's shoes came down the abandoned streets. Her unfashionably short, platinum blond locks flew about her as she ran.<p>

With a slight draft of wind, her dress ruffled a little and the white underskirt was on the verge of being exposed. To anyone else, it would have been absolutely scandalous, but not to this woman; absolutely nobody was out on the streets at this time. Nobody but her, anyways. She had made certain of it.

The girl cautiously looked around before making a swift turn left, towards a small forest. She swiftly weaved her way between trees and kept running, making sharp turns as swiftly as a pair of cheap flats would allow. Her constrictive coil about the waist did not deter her; her neck circlet was uncomfortable but by no means acknowledged.

Looking about, she saw no sign of what she was looking for. She was not there yet.

The pin oaks and red oaks passed by in a flurry of blurs. The girl was only concerned with the landmarks. First came the rotten old log, then the fallen tree, then the small pond with ducks in it. Nothing warranted any more than a quick glance before she was turning her gaze forwards once more.

Having reached her destination, she stopped.

In a seemingly empty area, perfect for hiding large things, something was hidden in plain sight. If only she could see what she was looking for amid it. The brown trunks of oaks served only to make the trees run together with the withered grass springing up in sad little tufts on the ground. Perhaps this hiding spot was _too_ good.

The girl, frustrated, brushed some hair from her face and squinted her eyes at the scene. A moment of silence passed before she saw.

Disguised in a murky brown sheet in order to not arouse suspicion, the oversized traveling wagon lay in wait to be exposed to the outside world. What might have been architectural details were obscured by the thick cloth, and what might have been a thick cloth was really just a bedsheet intentionally covered in mud and dirt.

The woman's eyes crinkled a little as she put her burnoose's hood over her head. Recognition would be inevitable otherwise.

"We're both being shrouded in cloth," remarked the girl to herself, letting a light giggle escape from her lips.

However, there was unfinished business to be dealt with. The woman scampered over to the carriage and grasped a handle along its front. She steadily pulled it along, despite its incredible weight. A well-worn trail leading out from the small expanse was utilized without much thought.

(She'd never reveal her secret as to how she did it, but it was a common conception that she used magic; knowing her character, it was not at all unlikely.)

Passing by the small pond with ducks in it, then the fallen tree, then the rotten old log, the woman made her way out of the dying forest. She heaved the great rolling monster onto a deserted street and stopped. With a jostle, the wagon let down its brake. The cobblestone streets proved reliable when the girl hopped onto the steps and unlocked the door of the carriage.

The scent of paper and old books quickly wafted into the air. To the girl, it was a comforting scent, one she'd very nearly grown up with.

She paused for a second, making sure nobody was about, before quietly slipping into the wagon.

A richly decorated yet small library came into view, plastered with falling pages and old, careworn books. Many of the titles were fresh and new, however. The printing press had been very good to the prices and occasionally, buyers would swoop in and take as many books as they could afford to read. Everyone from cottars to merchants to disguised nobles wound up in her shop, and Rose had to keep an eye on the latter for certain reasons.

You see, she knew renting books was very serious business. But _illegal_ books was even more serious than that.

Darting through bookshelves like she dived between forest oaks, the girl unlocked a second, nondescript door that was next to a bookshelf filled with Bibles. It revealed an even smaller, even mustier section of the library.

Much less decorative than its predecessor, the volumes of many books were written entirely in a language undecipherable by the human eye. Twisty letters and an unusual alphabet made the novels seem foreign, alien. There were books about troll romance, about trolls, about trolls' perception of humans, about the struggle between humans and trolls, and even a few particularly off-the-books books (written entirely in said undecipherable alphabet) regarding the small Resistance, made up of mostly human cottars who worked alongside many, many persecuted trolls.

All of them were passionate reads, the woman was well aware, for she had read a few herself. You see, Rose was trying to teach herself Alternian.

She breathed in the scent of books in a fit of nostalgia. Picking up the novel she was attempting to read, she sat at her desk in the back of the room, awaiting her most valued volunteer. The door was left ajar in anticipation. Her girlfriend ought to not have trouble visiting, after all.

Kanaya had woken up just before the sun rose, tendrils of dawn gripping the sky like murky, dark tentacles. The town of Prospit was almost entirely asleep in a cumulative slumber, with little more than a handful of stragglers prowling the streets.

The troll was completely aware of the time and its stipulations. It's why she had woken up.

Overnight, her pricked finger slipped free of her makeshift bandage. The finger, though marginally less than before, remained in a sore state. Kanaya chose to ignore it, instead focusing on thumbing through her vast selection of homemade dresses and underskirts.

A slightly worn but usable green gown caught her eye. Her matesprit had once told her it suited her, back when she had only recently finished it. Seeing as she was going to visit her now, it wouldn't hurt to impress her while she was at it.

Slipping out of her cotton recuperation garment, the troll hung it up in her wardrobe and took out a white underskirt, picking a loose thread from it. Just as quickly as she had retrieved the underskirt, she adorned it. Soon after came the jade green gown, proving slightly tighter over time but by no means uncomfortable. Nothing would be uncomfortable for the pity that she felt.

A half hour had gone by with these proceedings, much too fast to be proper or the like. Where Kanaya was going, however, there was no place for such things, so it mattered not. Grabbing a mirror and lipstick, she hurried out the door, being sure not to wake up any member of the household.

This proved incredibly ineffective. Less than an hour later, a messy-haired human boy was roused from his slumber with a start.

The silence of the household pierced the air, characteristic of a Saturday at the Egbertian household. Undoubtedly, the entire staff was on break today, and according to John, it included Karkat (who hadn't even started yet). This was going to be a big, big day, anyways.

It was the perfect time to get John's new employee settled in, the boy realized with a slight grin.

Wiping the sleep out of his eyes, John sat up in his bed and yawned, stretching his hands above his head in a satisfying gesture.

"Rrrraaaghh."

Waking up wasn't really his forte. Sleeping - now, that was his prize-winning talent. Had he ever needed to work, he'd find a way to slumber his way to fortune and profit.

He pulled the thick blankets off his bed reluctantly, letting out another whine at the loss of warmth to his body. It took three tries (okay, two fakeouts and one half-assed attempt) before he was even willing to leave the mattress.

Out of force of habit, John ran his fingers through his incredibly messy hair. He bit on his chapped lower lip without thinking, tapping his bare feet on the cold stone floor.

He recalled that Karkat was supposed to be asleep (or maybe he was awake already) but either way he had to check up on him. Shuffling along the walls, the boy traveled little more than a few feet before he arrived at his destination. He scratched at his itchy face as he kept shifting his weight between feet.

Finally, he knocked on the wall beside the door. This was the right room, correct? Heh, he'd sure look stupid if that wasn't the right ro-

"Karkat! Get up!" he cheerfully called out, still blinking his grogginess away. The previous night's misery was all but forgotten for the moment. "Hey, dude. Wake up already. I can't stand out here waiting forever, you know."

The sound of knocking filled Karkat's half-dreams, and soon the drowsy whining of his boss followed.

Jerking upright in his bed (no - the bed assigned to him), the troll woke up with a short gasp. He'd only been half-asleep! How the fuck did this manage to be a situation he was in? There was only one thing to do: get dressed, and make it snappy!

He rubbed at his eyes quickly and scampered out of bed, shuffling to grab his cloak and cover any distinguishing troll features. The mirror on the wall beside him served to only mock his appearance: disheveled, dirty, and mutant. Of course, he had no time to fall into a self-hating fit just yet; he smoothed out the cloak for a second to try and combat that until the knocking started up again and a creaking sound came from the door.

Shit, _shit_, was the derp trying to _open_ it?

The troll dashed to the door in haste and threw it open before John could, nearly making his drowsy master (who was leaning against it) fall to the ground with a thump.

"W-what…?" Karkat asked, traces of fear still noticeable in his tone.

"Haha, wow, you actually sleep in that?" John answered with another question, turning over onto his back as if his fall hadn't hurt in the slightest.

"Moron," snapped the employee, quickly getting over his fright with his annoyance, "if I haven't made myself very clear when I brought in my absolute abundance of possessions with me into your occupational structure or the previous night, I don't have shit and I don't need shit." He dusted off his cloak sleeves and managed to cast a glare at the intruder (no, wait - he was the intruder, not John) grinning at him.

He had to be kidding.

"Yeah, whatever," John replied. His tone was slightly impatient. "anyways. I'm making breakfast, since Kanaya's probably meeting up with Rose and I haven't seen my chefs around. You want anything?"

Karkat paused for a moment, thinking about the way John said '_my_ chefs' so casually after offering to cook. This was unreal. "Just…fuck. I don't know. What do you have?"

John itched the back of his neck absentmindedly. He hadn't even bothered to check for inventory. Oops, his bad. Yesterday, he did recall getting eggs, and some vegetables on the verge of going bad. No bread, because he was supposed to get that. Looks like the only thing he could make was…

"Omelets."

Karkat only scratched beneath his hood in response.

"Uh, that is, if you like omelets. I don't know how to make much else with eggs and near-rancid vegetables. That's okay, right?"

"Yeah, sure, whatever, just don't burn anything," the employee mumbled, raspy voice slightly warmer with renewed drowsiness.

John completely ignored the implications in the remark, instead noticing that Karkat didn't quite seem awake. Was he going back to sleep? There was no way he was going back to sleep!

"Then you should probably stay awake! I'm not going to take _that_ long, jeez. Just come down in a few minutes. I promise I'm not bad enough a cook to burn an omelette."

"Well, fuck." Karkat puffed, pouting a bit at the accusation of sleepiness made. "I'll come down now, if only to keep your oversized vocalization hole shut."

He adjusted his hood and robe before stepping into the hall and closing the door. Politely, John stepped aside, but began walking towards the kitchen.

"Good! You can watch the master at work!"

"There's no way you're the master, Egbert. Not if you still need chefs."

"Wha - ugh! You ruined it."

"There wasn't anything to ruin, not with that puerile, sorry excuse for a statement."

"No, you ruined it! You just have! So, as such, you've unleashed the fury of the master prankster!" John wiggled his eyebrows once. "Maybe I'll do something to your eggs. Maybe I won't. But you definitely won't see me comi-"

"I am not getting roped into this. Just go make whatever the fuck you were going to make."

A pause. "Fine. But I'll need somebody to stand by while I burn the omelettes," John teased, finishing his small journey to the kitchen.

Karkat was thoroughly irritated by this point, and was forced to let out steam by waiting at the counter nearly two feet away. His boss was almost tolerable the first day, but now there were just no words. This ineptifuckery was stupid enough to not require words. Two months would never end. And the way that guard moron phrased it, it'd be more than that. Fucking hell.

That rich prick probably didn't even know how to make a decent omelette.

"If you burn them, I will spit that shit out along with the rest of my gastrointestinal secretions."

John was not impressed. "Ew."

He clambered into the kitchen and was currently rifling through his selection of pots and pans, the majority foreign to the boy. Okay, maybe he didn't know exactly how to make an omelette, but that was just because he didn't have muscle memory. He totally knew how to, otherwise. He'd seen one of his chefs cook it before. It looked easy! And with all of his knowledge of cooking, if it looked easy, chances are, it was easy!

After a few minutes of thinking, John gave up. Who was he kidding? It's never as easy as it looks.

"I wasn't entirely kidding about burning those eggs, actually. I can't even remember the last time I made an omelet!"

"You wouldn't," muttered the troll, but it went unnoticed.

John got out two eggs and two handfuls of slightly wilted vegetables, thinking the ratio of eggs to vegetables looked about right. He frowned. How the fuck was he supposed to make something edible out of this?

"Ehm. You know what? I don't want to take any chances with this." The boy absentmindedly scratched at his cheek. "Can you make something out of it?"

Karkat quickly perked up.

_Could he make something out of this,_ he asks. _Could Karkat make an edible dish out of nothing but eggs and vegetables, he asks. Could Karkat, strong leader and master street chef, make a fucking delicious primavera-as-fuck breakfast with only cluckbeast eggs and leafy stuff from the ground._

In his not-quite-leisurely travels, the troll worked numerous odd jobs, ranging from the mundane to the obscure to the undesirable. A sort of free cottar, he was the last resort when someone needed their oinkbeasts herded into a shitty pen or a second moat dug for the noblemen who were unsatisfied with their first ones (greedy assholes). His better lines of employment consisted of tasks such as birthing twin hoofbeast calves or sweeping in rooms filled with rambunctious wigglers.

The task that happened to be the most useful for him turned out to be cooking. Working in taverns guaranteed at least a little food for his efforts. Certainly, he was no _real_ master chef. But when it came down to it, if the guy burned anything, it was probably on purpose.

And this history made the troll crack his knuckles preparedly as he shuffled over to the kitchen, shooing his employer back a few steps for more room.

"Easy," he simply replied, examining what he had to work with.

In his surprise at the response, John stepped away without a thought, moving back further when prompted. Karkat knew what to do? He was even _prepared_? He was surprised, seeing as prepared was something Karkat wasn't during that street moment, when the guard dragged him over to his new home against his will…oh god!

Thinking up excuses not to get absorbed in the guilt, he stared at Karkat intently, trying to actually pay attention to a cooking method. But that wasn't how his chef did it, why in the world was he getting a -

"What exactly are you making?"

Karkat looked up for a split second before lowering his gaze once more. "Something from my homeland."

John was silent for a moment, contemplating what that could be. Unfortunately, his measly human brain just wasn't creative enough to come up with any idea as to what that could be. For all he knew, he could be making some sort of poiso -

"Errrhh. And _what_ is that?"

"You wouldn't know what it is."

"Maybe I would."

"You wouldn't."

"Maybe if you tell me."

"Knowing you for these few waking hours, you won't."

"I will!"

"No."

"Well, tell me anyways!"

"It's a heaping plateful of shut the fuck up garnished with a sprig of close your gaping vocalization hole! _Jesus_. Do you _ever_ close your mouth?" Karkat was visibly irritated, seeing as how he was brutally massacring some squishy tomatoes. He immediately regretted his outburst, but didn't have the tact to apologize, so he threw himself even further into his cooking to compensate.

"Rude, but yes," muttered John, clearly getting the hint that he would have to live his entire life not knowing what that weird dish his employee made for him was. If he'd even remember him, that is.

While he still could recall Karkat's name, the boy shifted his gaze slightly towards the person himself. Was he slightly less stiff? Yes, he was. The guy had probably been absorbed in his own little world of cooking and eggs and vegetables and cooking utensils until the boy had the decency to open his mouth. John would probably never understand, nor care to understand, exactly how it all worked. But Karkat understood. He probably understood many things John did not understand.

Maybe he'd ask one day. A bit of yelling and swears might liven the topic up.

"Wow, you really know how to cook, don't you?" John blurted suddenly.

"Wow, you really know how to ask stupid questions, don't you?" the troll hissed in spite of himself. However, he quickly remembered he was speaking to his employer and corrected himself, keeping a close watch on his phrasing. "Ugh. Not really. I used to cook a whole fuckin' lot, though."

Karkat dashed back to the eggs. checking to make sure they didn't spontaneously catch on fire. You never know.

"Really?" John was surprised at the remark, but upon getting an actual answer, he was even more shocked. Karkat wasn't exactly a street urchin, then, was he? "I didn't know that," continued the human. "That's where you learned to make this, then? One of your jobs?"

"…I suppose. One of the first places I cooked for taught me this shit overnight. The morning, though…" Karkat trailed off, remembering that the rest was obviously troll culture. The scene was gruesome; the family was found guilty of stashing the _horrid mutant troll monster_ in their cellar. They hadn't even known Crabdad was there until the inspectors came by to slay him.

John noticed that his employee had left his sentence unfinished, and for a second he was about to ask why. He decided otherwise, however, dismissing it as weird distracting chef things clouding his brain.

"That sounds really cool! I didn't get to learn to cook at a restaurant like you! If you, well, don't mind, maybe you can teach me so I won't have to mooch off you, hehe."

"Fuck. I guess," Karkat said. He turned his attention back to the murdered vegetables. "There's not much to go through but the motions. Even a grub…er, an insect grub could do it."

John quickly adjusted his gaze as Karkat shifted the pan a bit.

"That'd be great!" exclaimed the boy. His grin let his overbite spill out of his mouth embarrassingly, which was quickly fixed by a reminder that Karkat had very little actual choice. Actually, the kid was starting to frown. To counteract it, he quickly turned to the dishes, neatly stacked as always, and set two on opposite ends of his table. The egg dish started to turn a light shade of brown.

"And when'd you want to start?" The troll began shoveling the combined-ingredient mix onto the plates, leaving a smaller portion reserved for himself. John was already sitting at one end of the table, holding his plate out. Karkat utilized the spatula well, inelegantly plopping the egg-and-vegetable horror onto the outstretched dish.

_Skwuck_.

A nervous shuffle. "Uh," the human said. The troll sat in his chair expectantly.

The human was too preoccupied to notice Karkat's behavior, however, instead choosing to stare at his meal. A flat, slightly springy chunk of yellow and bits of green splayed itself out on the plate. Prodding with a fork only made it wobble for a second before returning to its original form. It was beyond foreign. Had he not known better, John would have said it were inedible.

He didn't really want to look at it. It made his stomach feel queasy.

"I, uh, wanted to start as soon as possible, so you can go back like you probably want as soon as possible. But it's the day off for everyone today. Maybe now's not a good time."

"Right," replied Karkat, watching the boy across the table with an invisible crimson gaze. It was clear that he was expecting John to take a bite. "But if it's a day off, then there'd be less asshats around to interrupt our shitty seminar." He finished his statement with a bite of the breakfast, looking like it physically pained him to swallow.

John was looking intently at his tablemate. His actions were by no means reassuring. The only thing he could do to the food was poke and prod it a little bit with the fork.

"Don't be stupid. It's free day for me, too! At least, free-roam day since Kanaya's off work and all that. I don't think anybody here would be happy to know that you sat here all alone in my house because everyone else had their own affairs. Besides, I'm pretty sure it wouldn't be bad for you to get used to life here, even if it's only for a bit."

Karkat's features softened a little at the concern. Okay, maybe he was pretty much property with sentience by now, and nobody is stupid enough to damage property (even this idiot who thought him worth saving). Fine. He couldn't have his little sappy-ass moments, huh? Maybe this human did have genuine kindness and not just intent to gather another employee.

A short wave of nostalgia followed the thought of compassion. It tickled the memories of the kind family he'd learned the egg recipe from. Maybe if they'd known him for his true self, it'd have gone better. Maybe, instead of trying to kill him and put his head, disgusting human-red blood and all, on a pike, they'd have actually been able to help him. Where were they now? Probably in some dungeon, wasting away like putrid meat. Because Karkat was just a lovely bundle of trouble everywhere he went.

"Yeah, okay," he muttered, inclining his head a bit as he gingerly took another bite of his food.

He had no objection to the taste, but it felt _weird_ eating less than ten hours after the previous meal. Like a good schoolwriggler, he cleared his plate, but John didn't even seem to touch it.

Karkat was not satisfied with mere acknowledgement. "Augh, you idiot! Are you going to eat my swinish slop of a meal, or did I just waste my time exerting precious energy to slave on a breakfast you'll refuse to eat?"

John only looked up at his employee and grinned sheepishly. The meal was reduced to squishy fluff.

"Oh, no, I'll start eating right now. It's just so foreign and weird and I'm not really used t -"

"Egbert, you pestiferous dipshit. If it is in my job description to forcefully grab hold of your chewing bone and shove platefuls of my exotic feeding-trough slop down your windpipe, I will do it, if only to shut your metaphorical trap and spare my ears the horror that is a rant you execrated straight from your infested and hircine ass."

"Jeez, I'm eating, I swear!"

Tentatively, he shoved his fork under a bit of eggy meal and pulled it up towards his mouth. Then, quickly, to get it over with, he jammed the fork into his mouth and bit into the breakfast.

He expected it to be simple. Tasteless. Rubbery. How could Karkat have learned to cook from a good tavern owner if he'd been living in places like the Veil's alleys before he met him?

It was nothing rubbery in the least. It was good. No, it was _delicious._ Had he been stranded in the Veil once more with nothing but that meal, John wouldn't have minded much. What did he miss when he was watching the cooking process? What could possibly be in it? That was just _unnaturally_ good.

"Well?" Karkat impatiently drummed his gray fingers against the table, stopping for a second to wonder if he'd poisoned John.

"Karkat."

"Yeah?"

"Karkat."

"What?"

"_Karkat._"

"Goddamnit. Just give me the criticism already. I can take it. I'm not a wiggl -"

"No, Karkat." John looked at Karkat with big blue eyes. "This is fucking amazing. I could live off of this for years. Why have you been hiding this from the world?"

Karkat kept scowling for a second. He was preparing a snarky retort, with all sorts of juicy expletives he'd been dying to release, but stopped himself just in time to realize what had been said.

"Wha - uh, yeah. It's kept me off these ignominious excuses for streets more times than you can count. You hu - people, you people tend to like it for some reason."

"No wonder. This makes me feel kinda cozy and warmed up. Like sitting by a fireplace, or maybe just being in a warm wind. I can tell why everyone's for it."

John rapidly finished off the dish, though he still managed to feel temptation to lick the plate clean rather than leave it to dry. Karkat had a slightly different idea in mind, stacking the dirty plates on top of each other and starting to wash them in the ornate tub.

"Whatever. It's just food. You eat it to stay alive, dumbfuck," the troll mumbled. The rest of the dishwashing period, he stayed silent, instead choosing to focus on the plates and utensils. Fuck, this water was cold…

John stood there and stared for a minute before remembering to respond. "Yeah, but…er, Karkat, you didn't have to…it's your day off and you're doing the dishes…"

"And? It's not much work. I don't give a shit. Not a goddamn problem, seeing as it's stupid to just leave it out to fester later. I'm sure as my…_master_, you'll appreciate that." He finished the last of the dishes and flicked the water off his hands before wiping them on his cloak. The grey skin he possessed was temporarily shown off.

At the word "master", John's skin writhed a little bit. He couldn't comprehend how he had all that dirt on his hands and still managed to be clean with the possessions, or even work without commands, or call him "master".

"So, is there anything to deal with today? Birthing hoof beasts? Teaching idiots how to cook?" Karkat pursed his lips in a thin line, leaning back against the counter with arms crossed.

John shook his head, trying to recover from the unusual and generally unpleasant feelings he was getting from Karkat actually fulfilling his job description. "Actually, I'm just visiting my friends."

The troll girl powered through the empty streets, weaving her way through near-empty streets. Despite her prominent horns proudly displayed rather than sawed down like most others in hiding, nobody messed with her. The few stragglers about knew better than to try and harvest the reward for trolls using her.

She'd elaborate on such a matter, but it'd be better to let the stragglers explain. And the stragglers don't actually know what happened, except it involved lipstick, war faces, and a very bloody, saw-related demise for the aggressor. That was reason enough to avoid her.

The sky had opened up to the sun, not a single cloud in sight. She reveled in the feel of light on her skin as she turned the last corner to her destination.

A lone trailer stood just before the fine line between forest and civilization. No doubt any wares sold within were illegal, and possibly unknown to the general public. The wood varnish, once clean and polished, was now scratched, with a particularly large scrape across the door. A just-as-abused sign read "Ro-Lal's Library, purvayor and loaner of obscure and exuqisite volumes, mother-daughter owned" in print. The word "mother" was crudely scratched out. "Purveyor" and "exquisite" were misspelled.

This was it. There was no mistaking the traveling library.

The troll stepped into the trailer and paused for a moment.

The outer room was beautiful in stark contrast to the exterior, even with a few stray books lying about from the obvious shaking of a moving wagon. Crown moulding and richly colored carpet beckoned to the troll, inviting her to peruse the selection. But this was not where she was to be.

She methodically navigated through small lines of bookshelves, ignoring the pungent scent of aged novels and occasional loose page. The locked door at the end of the room next to the Bibles was swiftly opened, making way into a secondary, much smaller room. From there, there was only one place to go, and the door to it was left unlocked.

The human was expecting her.

"Why, good morning, dearest Kanaya. I was afraid you weren't going to show up." Rose smiled warmly towards her matesprit, a rare sight to anyone else.

"So was I. It's nice to see you again, Rose."

Naturally, Kanaya was no stranger to a double-entendre. Her statement would have been a completely average one had not a demure smirk been attached to it. In her own form of excitement, she was already closing the door behind her.

"And what, pray tell, are you doing on this finest of mornings?" Rose said.

"Simply visiting my finer friend," returned Kanaya, "though it was to be expected. She is an experience simply too delightful to pass up when one is in the neighborhood." Kanaya swiftly reapplied her lipstick and set her gaze back onto the woman in front of her.

"Great minds think alike," Rose sneaked a bit of adoration into her well-kept tone as she slipped around the desk to stand that much closer to Kanaya.

"Then surely you know what I am thinking right now." Kanaya took several steps toward her matesprit, though no distance was close enough. Not now, not ever.

Rose wrapped her arms around Kanaya's waist as lightly and teasingly as she could, lifting her head up a little with admiration. And then she winked. If her intentions had not been clear earlier, they were definitely clear now.

"Oh, do enlighten me, Miss Maryam," the blonde cooed, lifting her head up for Kanaya's convenience.

"I think I shall."


	7. To Be In Vain

Good evening/afternoon/solar eclipse, or however the light is where you're reading this!

I'm afraid it's been a long wait for a short chapter, seeing as I've run into a bit of a pothole in terms of ideas. I've inundated myself with projects and requests that really aren't making this so convenient. However, I am not going to give up!

More RoseMary in this chapter. I apologize for taking up quite a bit with this ship, as this is a Johnkat fanfiction, but do not fear! It won't be long until we focus entirely on them. We simply must meet everyone. Must, must, must.

Also, the dreaded kissing scene! Avert your eyes! (Or, y'know, don't, hehehe.)

I'd like nothing more than a review, good or bad, though any other sign of appreciation is just as nice! :

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><p>The only thing going through Kanaya's mind was Rose.<p>

Bearing just a few inches over her matesprit, the troll inclined her head downwards just as Rose lifted hers upwards. Their soft, slightly chapped lips met, a long-needed relief tingled down their spines.

Kanaya felt completely satisfied for one priceless moment.

Rose refused to part, instead choosing to flutter her eyelids closed and smile against her lover's lips in shared bliss. A little nibble at Kanaya's lower lip and _she_ was moaning instead. The troll girl pulled Rose closer, the heat of the moment rising to her, as Rose did the same, pressing at her girlfriend more furiously than she initially intended. One of Kanaya's fangs cut at Rose's lip. Neither did anything about it.

The entire relationship was taboo, incredibly taboo. The villagers would surely cull the couple just for knowing each other; torture them for the way that they knew each other; see them through the window and try to kill them on sight. Yet Kanaya and Rose couldn't hear anyone over their delight, their love, Kanaya kissing Rose along the jawline, along the neck, Rose panting with desire, Rose's eyes turned upwards with ecstasy.

Passion flared like the raging licks of flame from a torch, their shared body heat furiously igniting it. Oh, it had been far too long for the both of them. It was clear that neither could quit, even they'd wanted to. It was all so good, so hedonistic, so satisfying, they never wanted to st-

_Thud._

Abruptly, the sound of a book hitting the floor of the caravan jerked the couple apart. Kanaya awkwardly clasped her hands behind her back and broke the kiss just as Rose was turning away with a blush creeping over her face. Both of them stood shuffling anxiously in place, preparing to make up an excuse.

But no response came. The only sign that the sound was made lay on the floor to the left of Rose.

That rebellious Complacency of The Learned! It always found an opportune moment to come loose from the shelf and embrace the ground.

Her mother had loved the book, the human recalled, somewhat dizzily. But not as much as she had. It was almost as if it were written for her. It was also likely the most scandalous novel offered in the library. Quickly, Rose replaced it on the shelf and turned to her matesprit.

"Even with that unfortunate interruption," she purred, still hungry with desire, "you, Miss Maryam, are what makes these mornings wonderfully glorious."

Kanaya's face, earlier stony with shock and fear, settled into a slightly foggy expression. A small grin played up onto her features. It was limited as she was still shaken from the event.

"I haven't managed to ascertain how you do the same. It must be magic."

"Oh, you kill me, Kanaya. Your lying is impeccable. I'm struggling to keep in my amazement and shameless blushing!"

"Consider it nothing less than complete and utter truth until evidence suggesting otherwise can be scraped up."

"It appears that I'll have to take your word for it," Rose replied with a sense of finality. It didn't stop Kanaya from having the final response.

"Or we could abandon words once more," she smirked as she spoke, and this time she was the one who winked first.

"You're visiting your friends," Karkat repeated flatly. "Seems kinda idiotic for someone who just insisted I couldn't _possibly_ be left alone in the house to go off on a grand tour of whatever the fuck this town is with their 'friends'."

"Don't be stupid. I'm not going to leave you here, previous insistence or not," John replied, casting a glance at the pile of freshly washed dishes. "I want you to come with me. We'll stop by the library to visit Kanaya and Rose, and then we'll catch up with Dave, though he's _so_ cool that nobody can catch up to him, apparently. Or he's just really weird. Sometimes, Jade manages to show up here as a stop on her travels! It'll be great! …well, if you can come with, anyways."

The human hoped he'd made it very clear that the remark was a choice. He stood up and pushed in his chair before giving Karkat a hopeful grin.

Karkat scowled a little at the mention of meeting the idiot human's _so-called friends_ which he really didn't want to bother with. They'd probably be more morons like him, sniveling over the slightest mention of doing their own labor (or even knowing how to do their own labor). He didn't want to hear incessant whining from overprivileged humans. It was hard enough keeping his vocalization hole shut around this one guy. He wasn't even doing a very good job at that.

But of course, Egbert was looking at him with that stupid grin of his and talking about it so positively it made Karkat's head hurt. Not to mention that he wasn't his own leader anymore; he had to take commands from a superior now. A twerp of a superior with oversized incisors and the goofiest eyes, who probably farted rainbows in his sleep. Yep. This was the most logical choice for a master.

Naturally, he couldn't disappoint the idiot. God knows how he'd be punished.

He groaned.

Fine, then. Karkat Vantas was going to meet some more humans, much more than was reasonable.

He could only pray for his life that none of them would recognize his face as that of a troll's, or even as that of a troll named Karkat around neighboring towns. His identity meant no less than a swift culling. It was on his mind nearly half the time when his boss wasn't distracting him.

"Well, none of the anally retentive morons here seem too keen on me doing otherwise. It's not like I have anything better to do yet." Karkat saw John mentally flinch a little at the remark, and attributed it to disgust. Disgust at what, he didn't know and didn't care.

John had quickly felt a pang of guilt as Karkat responded. Why'd he have to put it like that? Of course he doesn't have anything better to do than follow John around now...

The worry crossed his mind, and the boy hoped his facial expression was spared from it. The only thing to do was smile and reply.

"Great! I'm glad you actually want to go!" The boy had intentionally misconstrued the begrudging acceptance for determined approval. Somehow, his eyes traveled to Karkat's worn garments and his own delicate sleepwear. These outfits weren't going to work for outdoors living, were they?

"And, uh. I guess we can't exactly prance outdoors in pajamas. I need to change out of them," John blushed a little. It was somewhat scandalous to be seen like this by a member of his own staff! "And you too, I guess."

Karkat screamed curse words in his head, to keep himself from swearing loudly and repeatedly at his boss in Alternian. What exactly was this asshole implying, and why'd he have to be _human_, of all things? He deserved nothing less than to be jammed in a pothole filled with wiggling bulgestiffs!

"I don't have any pajamas, _fucknuts_. Or anything 'proper' or 'correct' or 'decent'. Just this fucking rag, which, no, you can't replace, this is _my_ fucking rag. In case you haven't noticed, my robe's the only thing I own and want to own. I mean, there's not much difference between one garment and the same fucking garment because there's nothing to compare it to!"

"Augh! Don't explain it to me! I'll get changed into my normal clothes…just don't run out on me." John joked a little towards the end. Karkat had opened his mouth to fire back a scathing remark about trust or something dumb like that, but John already darted into his room. The last thing the employee saw was a mischievous wave before the door closed. Karkat still could not help but notice the substantial lack of the door being locked.

His bangs had been messier than wanted, and only that snapped him out of it.

Checking for any surrounding sneaks, the troll leaned back against the wall and pulled his hood back. His disappointment of a set of horns peered out and panged at the feel of cold. Karkat quickly mussed his hair up to his satisfaction, and before John could get back, the hood was hastily placed over his head. Safe for now.

John didn't even bother to lock the door when he entered his room. At the moment, he was deep in his closet, not bothering to come out until he had an acceptable change of clothes (for clarification, John knew exactly how this sentence could be misconstrued, and he knew he wasn't like that. Take it literally, for God's sake!). Normally, he wouldn't even bother, but Kanaya was very scrutinizing of his wardrobe and Rose was just…well, suffice to say being a sloppy dresser made you feel incredibly stupid around her.

It didn't help that his white, starched socks were simply refusing to be put on their proper appendages, (je was in a hurry and Kanaya probably wouldn't notice if his socks were covered by his shoes, so no biggie), and his dark blue cotton breeches were not easily applied, and perhaps a little more breathable than he'd like.

However, much to his pleasure, his wide-sleeved shirt (wide and slightly billowy, as per Kanaya's tastes, ruffles not present…thankfully) was quickly adorned.

Clad in his outfit, John thought he looked as dashing as Nicholas of Cage. Surely the women would line up just for a glimpse of the godly figure of John Egbert, Earl Extraordinaire and Overall Kickass Hero.

Unfortunately, admiring your own similarities to a kickass action hero in a mirror is not a mode of transportation.

John stepped out of his room, shaking off a bit of the morning grogginess that remained. For the most part, he was awake, though it'd take a minute for him to truly wake up. Even so, he could tell Karkat had not been patient. His coolkid friend leaned against the wall the same way Karkat was doing now when he was impatient, except he had a stone-cold poker face instead of a scowl. Shit, how long did he take putting on those socks?

"Are you ready _now?_" Karkat hissed, only acknowledging John's presence by his footsteps. "Or are you going to put on…some other puffy shit? Fuck. I don't know what you airheads wear."

Then he turned his head and paused for a moment, looking over the derp's entire garb. He couldn't stop himself from just _staring_.

The day before, John was undoubtedly wearing a similar outfit, but Karkat didn't see fit to let John's appearance be the first priority. But now, the troll managed to take it all in.

_Stupid humans, and their stupid human..._things_!_

"Your socks are on the wrong fucking feet," Karkat mumbled, pointing at his boss' stocking-adorned feet. The motion made his hood shake a little, but he didn't notice; he was busy being slightly flustered. It was probably nothing, anyway.

It wasn't _nothing_. John saw that his employee's hood was a little bit higher up. For the first time, he caught glimpse of somewhat full, albeit chapped lips and further grayness of complexion. What really struck him, though, was the bony jawline and hollow cheeks, obviously not from heritage. This guy was not in a good state of health when he was taken in.

The human probably would have gone on staring for a while, but he found himself ducking in spite of himself, hoping to get a glimpse of his eyes.

With precision, Karkat's head turned swiftly towards John's. The human blushed profusely. The troll's hands shot to the hood in order to adjust it. "What?"

"Oh, nothing, nothing, uh," John mumbled, embarrassed. "I don't know what you're talking about. All I can see is a perfectly adorned pair of socks, man."

Karkat only looked annoyed. With a snort, he dismissed the remark. "Yeah. Whatever. Do what you want." He paused for a moment, testing the waters, and added, "Your face looks like a big-ass tomato, you know."

"Shut up," John replied. "Let's get going."

"Wow," Kanaya remarked, truly amazed.

Rose smirked. "I know, I know. I am, indeed, amazing. We do have to take care of the library, though. Surely we can handle that. Work often follows play."

"I wouldn't consider it a displeasure to assist you however need be."

"It may take a while."

"Hmmmm. In that case, I can wait as long as you need."

Rose had no snarky quip to retort with, so she only gave her mysterious smile. The girl disappeared into the library itself, and soon Kanaya followed. The only sound was that of gently knocking books. Rose took several volumes into her arms, her gaze not straying from any of them as she carefully dusted them off.

The troll woman could only watch as her matesprit fluidly danced about the rows and rows of books. It took a few minutes before she remembered that she was volunteering as well, and was probably looking stupid since she was just standing there like an upright brick with horns.

In slight embarrassment, she dusted herself off. Her mind had cleared up from the kiss, but was still a little foggy from the late bedtime from the night before. _The night before…_

Oh, no, she was _not_ going to think about that _now_, of all times. Kanaya didn't want to look any dumber than she'd made herself look. As if it made up for anything, she made a mad dash to scoop up some books into her arms.

Rose had been paying attention to her matesprit, and noticed a change.

It would be hard not to. Usually, Kanaya didn't make haste to shove discard books into her arms and shove them onto shelves.

"Kanaya, dear, you seem slightly distant at the moment." She set some freshly dusted books onto her shelf. "You seemed slightly distant earlier this morning, as well. Are you alright?"

When no response came, Rose walked over to Kanaya. She made it a point to look her matesprit in the eyes, violet meeting green. The human's gaze was all steadiness and confidence, while the troll's was filled with mostly anxiety. Kanaya evidently didn't want to speak.

It took only a second for the troll woman to change her mind. She knew it would be better in the long run.

"I've been thinking about the day before, though I have been attempting to avoid the matter until it becomes necessary to face it." Kanaya gulped a little before continuing. "John will be visiting here today, as is per his weekly routine."

Rose nodded sagely, the expression on her face controlled. However, it was undoubtable that she was deriving incredible satisfaction from simply knowing something new.

"I am certain he will bring along Karkat, the new help. I fear I will not have enough time to mull over their arrangement."

"I am fully willing to help in any way I can, though I am still hazy on how that will be. I'd like to ask you to explain Karkat to me. How are you worried by this?"

"He is a scrawny, hideously cloaked boy who John quite literally picked up off the streets to work for him after an attempted mugging."

"That complicates things."

Kanaya nodded somewhat pitifully.

"Well, from what I gather, it is perfectly acceptable for you to be worried over this, Kanaya." Rose paused to kiss Kanaya on the cheek, as she thought for a moment. What was one to make of such an event? "Have you anything else to add?"

"I also fear that the boy might want to manipulate him, somehow. Even if he seems resigned, I do not believe that a boy, fresh off the streets, whose life consists of nothing but thievery and darkness, would so easily give in to a slave's lifestyle. I am paid, he is not, and that makes all the difference in the job. He has no motivation other than that of escape, and you should know best of all the impatience of street thugs."

"Oh, now, Kanaya, you know John isn't a _complete_ buffoon. He does have his moments. Perhaps he has chosen well." Rose smiled reassuringly, moving her index finger along Kanaya's jawline. "I am positive that later on, you will find your fussing to be in vain, one way or another. You'll see."


	8. Make Way For The Rainy Day Parade

Happy Halloween or Christmas or Easter or whatever holiday it isn't in your respective time zones!

It's been 16 days! It's been two periods of 8 days to get Chapter 8, and for that I apologize profusely. The projects mentioned in the previous note are being finished, and also finishing off the majority of my free time. I am proud of this chapter which I have churned out finally, though, so I hope you like it as much as I do! It's also about twice as long as the previous chapter!

The RoseMary has been restrained, and the Johnkat reigns supreme in this chapter. The canonitude has been improved, I hope! But watch me totally pull off a cheap move. The cheapest of all cheap moves. You'll know when you see it, my friends.

Please leave a review if you like it! I always like hearing your opinion of the story, even if you don't like it! If you are a true fan, then you have memorized the general content of the disclaimer by now.

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><p>Karkat was pulling and tugging at his robe's frayed stitches, only then thinking to realize that he was in the presence of nobility and not just some rich asshole.<p>

"You shut up. You're the one driving me to calling you by vegetative pseudonyms," the troll hissed a little in his minor frustration.

"I don't think that's the word you mean-" John replied, but was quickly cut off by an angry employee.

"No. If you're not making a pitiful, sadistic attempt to deliberately piss me off like I'm little more than a rural hu- peasant, then I seriously doubt you even know what 'vegetative' means," Karkat fired back, giving up on making his robe look neater.

"Yes, I corrected you because I don't know the definition of the word I am correcting you on," John let sarcasm seep into his tone, but its ineffectiveness was obvious. "Hm? Why would you even know that? I thought you lived on the streets. You can't have been educated."

As he spoke, he walked over to the door, opening it and letting a little wind through.

"…are you stupid? Actually, I take that question back. Of course, you don't know. You've been cushioned with all of that money which got me in this situation in the first place. You said it yourself, you've never even been that far outside your little slice of fucking paradise."

Karkat adjusted his hood and scowled, slight moment of tolerance dissipated. On second thought, John was a huge asshole. Was this idiot just _trolling_ him? Was it genuinely possible for someone to be that moronic? His moments were heavy as he leaned against the wall, ranting about the idiocy of his employer right in front of the aforementioned gentleman's face.

"I know all that, man. _Buuuuut_, are you going to waste that precious time babbling on just how wrong I am?"

"Shit! No. You've got to make it to that meetup." Karkat smacked himself, pushing his hood back a little. "Fine, I'll give you the short version. When I lived in the..._Southern_ part of Skaia, I got lucky. Libraries are half-decent refuges and almost tolerable schools, just put it at that."

"So…what, you taught yourself to read in a library?" John paused for a moment as his eyes lit up just the slightest bit. "We're going to a library really soon. That is, if we even make it out of the house."

"We're not going to elaborate on that because it's not even worth mentioning. Forget I brought it up. Just open the door so we can get this shitheap of a meetup over with."

John turned to Karkat confusedly, and cocked his head about forty-five degrees.

"I did, you know…just now. You should probably walk through it."

Karkat looked to the door and was annoyed to find John was right. He only just noticed that the wind blew at his face like some windy idiot was trying to slap him.

Wind,_ oh my fucking god._

Maybe the troll didn't want to go visit John's dumbass human friends at all, now. Earlier, he wouldn't mind, but with these conditions, what if the wind blew off his hood? Maybe his friends would set a new speed record for attacking an unprovoked troll, if they even had a half pound more substance to their disgustingly human, overly-gelatinous thinkpans than John's did.

Karkat quickly realized his entire thought process was stupid. Of course he didn't have a say in this! He was a servant, and every command, fucking dumb as it is, must be followed. Suggestions are the same things as orders. He did agree to it, anyways. Trolls didn't just say shit they didn't mean.

He just hoped luck was on his side and not with the wind, considering he wasn't effectively culled the day before, or recognized as what the law defines to be _"subhuman"_.

"Yeah. Right," he muttered, not letting anything about himself indicate that there was a loyalty battle fucking up his head.

A fresh gust of wind ruffled the employee's hood, letting peeks of what seemed to be coarse, black hair through. Still, little more was visible than the faintest wisp of the silhouette of bangs. Even the eyes were conveniently obscured, John quickly noticed, and just as quickly looked away.

Karkat wasn't an idiot. John's unsubtle glances did not go undetected. He drew his eyebrows up, surprised. Near-instantaneously after, the troll shook off the shock before he adjusted his hood. It fell over the tip of his nose. A bit much, but then again, just enough was not enough with nosy idiots poking about his every facial crevice.

"If you'd ever so kindly take the goggling spheres in your facial sockets off my goddamn haircut, I'd appreciate that ever so much. Just bringing that up for you on this sturdy metaphorical table," blustered the troll as he tripped on the carpet, skidding for a split second before getting his bearings a foot away from the rug.

"Karkat! For your information, you have a horrible haircut," the human replied, letting himself through the door and closing it as he passed it. "and I was actually paying attention to your feet. You really don't have shoes? You'll need them today. I mean, really need them! I think, at least, considering that we're going to be walking a few miles. Oh, I'm rambling, aren't I?"

As if it were absolutely necessary to add, John scratched the back of his head, further mussing up his hairstyle. Most of the hair on the top of his head stuck straight up in a very careless fashion, completely unbecoming of an earl-to-be.

Karkat eyed John's awkward body language somewhat amusedly, with what might or might not have been a smirk. He turned his attention down towards his feet. The majority of his appendages were covered by his too-long cloak, but the toes were not difficult to make out. Not that he saw what was wrong with the picture; this was normal, to not have any shoes.

"I don't have any," Karkat replied, crossing his thin arms over his chest and looking back up at John, "and I don't need them, either. I grew up without the damn things, I think I can manage to eke out a passable existence without them."

John was pretty sure that Karkat meant he didn't like wearing shoes. He supposed he understood, it was like him and cake. He just didn't like it. Except, the only cake he _really_ had a problem with was the Batterwitch's variety; it looked like Karkat just didn't like shoes in general. That was fine, he guessed.

The poor guy did look like shit, though. John was going to clothe him near-instantly by the time he stops by a clothing store on the way back, even if it was just another hooded robe. Goddamnit, he was going to get a better robe or so help him. John'd brought two crowns with him just in case.

"You really sure? The pavement's gonna burn your feet to a crisp! Is that _passable_ to you?"

"Jesus Christ, I'm not a goddamn pansy! My life isn't exactly luxurious like you're used to. I can take the heat; why do you think I'm still _alive_?"

"Ugh, I get it! If you say so yourself. But really, it's a nice day! Hot, but way better than walking in the rain or the snow or stuff like th-" he shouted, enthusiasm a little overboard.

"I'm right here, you know. I can hear your blathering just fine."

He did have sensitive ears (being a troll did have a few perks), but that wasn't why he'd protested. In truth, the remark reminded him of criminal life. This was, indeed, good weather. It was the kind he'd take advantage of in order to skip out of town at his earliest convenience.

The troll took a good, long glance at the alleys. He would have been tempted to run right there and then had he not noticed a stray guard peering from the shadows. That was no coincidence.

John blushed a little at his crudeness. "I was just excited! What I was going to say is that it's good running weather, and we're going to have to run, so that's all."

"No shit. If you think I'm some kind of quibbling, lachrymose infant babbling some useless crap with its tail between its legs and can't figure shit out for my own, then I really doubt you hav- okay, you definitely don't have any brain matter in that…skull of yours if you decided having the likes of me enter the ranks of servitude in your name was a good idea."

"Babies don't have tails, you know."

"Fuck you! You know exactly what I meant!"

"Hey, I didn't do anything but point it out. You pranked yourself, dude!"

Karkat was just really peeved by now. This guy might have been the knight in shining armor to his whatever-the-fuck-he-was (there was no fucking way he'd be the flushed princess), prompting redrom, but it's like he was _trying_ to _black_-flirt with him.

Naturally, that's not at all what he would be trying to do, because of stupid humans and their stupid singular quadrants. (You can't even call it a quadrant, you probably call it a unirant or a monorant or something, and that is a really stupid name for a system of romantic affections.)

He wanted nothing more than to just sock the human in his squishy face and run for the hills, but of course, he didn't want to risk getting caught by the same guard. Karkat just couldn't win, he realized as he shuffled his calloused feet along the hot cobblestone.

He was too busy mulling the revelation over to snarl a response to his boss, and John wasn't dumb enough to ignore the sudden gestures of clenched fists and hunched shoulders. Maybe this little prank had gone too far for the moment, and it was better to leave it alone until he'd be able to strike again. With his verbiage, of course! (Don't be ridiculous. John knew better than to attack a guy that almost left his wallet bone-dry. Or to attack anyone at all, really.)

Besides, when Karkat wasn't calling him really dumb names, he was actually tolerable. Sure, John didn't know if he'd be a good worker, if he'd work or just complain all the time, or even if he was helpful in the least, but he would not have minded a friendship with this guy. If only he'd stop being such a grouch!

"Whatever. So, we're going to the library, as you know."

Karkat only turned his head to John's, grey face slightly reddish from what could only have been extreme annoyance. He just wasn't going to say anything, or he'd get even more pissed.

"Okay, fine, I guess I deserve the silent treatment! Just be listening. We're going to the library to visit Rose and Kanaya." He flashed a quick and easy grin at Karkat to reassure him, though it might have looked a little more suspicious than satisfying.

"Kanaya? Didn't you call that female at the door that or something similar?"

"Yeah, that's her! You remember she's a troll, but she's a really good seamstress and she pretty much keeps to herself when she's not huddled away with Rose, so I like her and I hope you do too. You should have an open enough mind to treat her nicely!"

"Why should I give a shit that she's a…troll?"

Karkat had to put all of his might into not loudly proclaiming, "_fucking hell!"_ immediately after and flipping every molecule of his shit like a table. Wait, what? Kanaya was a troll, like him? How did he miss something completely obvious like that? _He'd been way too busy worrying about his quality of life in John's domestic abidance block to pay attention to some important shit like tha-_

Wait.

_Wait._

Oh my god, this was fucking obvious. John was trying to pull over two over him in a row. Some pungent whipping asschump he was! He was a douchebag, and he grinned when he said it so overly deadpan, that much was clear; and now that he thought about it, there was no fucking way he wasn't making a sad attempt at pranking him again!

Well, he wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of seeing his realization, just so he can laugh at the gullible little troll twit again. Karkat was going to play along and out-troll him! That is, he'd figure how to go about it along the way.

"That's the spirit! Now, come on, at the rate that we're walking, we're going to be looking at narco-corpses instead of my friends. I don't think we'd don't want that!" John waved over his employee enthusiastically, only to be met with something that resembled a growl.

It kinda terrified him for a split second there, but he'd never admit it.

"I opine I'm overreacting, but you must understand that I don't have so much as a clue to whoever Karkat may be other than a street urchin," Kanaya fussed, adjusting the tilt of a book in the bookshelf.

She had every right to be concerned over the well-being of her boss. If anything, he was her friend. He let her do what she loved in exchange for good food and a well-sized bed. Not as homey as Alternian fare or an old-fashioned sopor slime ablution trap, but it was the best he could do. To see him dead or robbed or suffering would be a great weight on her conscience, even if he was dumb enough to do it to himself.

Rose only straightened up and brushed down her somewhat rumpled skirt before taking a half-step to Kanaya. A gentle, pale hand was placed on the troll woman's bony shoulder in a reassuring gesture.

"As I have said before, I am very much willing to help out in any way I can. The daedal labyrinth of your mind is very much overworking itself. If anything, you should be excited to meet this highly touted 'Karkat' formally. If you are overreacting, I am without doubt that you've only seen him once, and not in detail."

Kanaya ran a hand through her hair. "Rose, you are very kind, but I will not be at ease until I am absolutely certain that for as long as John knows his employee, he will sport full possession of his belongings and internal organs."

Rose laughed a little at Kanaya's remark, but she knew that her matesprit was not exaggerating anything. She loved her, she really did, yet Kanaya was such a needless worrier.

"You should only expect a desirable outcome. John seems to trust the proletarian, considering he took him into his staff. You may not trust the purported offender, but can you trust John's judgement?"

"I suppose John's judgement is usually fairly sound in the subject of people. But I confess, he does see them too optimistically oftentimes."

"I'd agree, considering he did choose to trust you, a troll. You never did get to meet the employee and apply your own judgement to anything he's done beside the previously mentioned, _downright unspeakable_ act."

"Yes, well, you're right," Kanaya stumbled a little over her own words, but otherwise did not show any signs of her slipping up. Her tone remained as steady as always.

"There you go. It'll be quite copacetic, I assure you." Rose paused to give Kanaya a small grin before turning back to her books. "Ooh, seems we've gotten a new, purely Alternian novel." The human picked up the book and held it in Kanaya's view.

Kanaya smiled back, and just as quickly, her face returned to a tranquil expression. She cast her gaze to the outstretched book, which seemed like little more than an old, chintzy, bucket-flaunting smut novella, judging by the title, "A Lowblood Seeks Acceptance Amid His Highblood Friends But Is Quickly Ignored Until A Fellow Lowblood Encounters Him In A Public Socialization Facility And Quickly Feels Pale For Him Despite The First Lowblood's Near-Instantaneous Red Feelings Which Are Later Accepted And Returned After A Series Of Romantic Shenanigans; Includes Two Instances Of Intimate Coital Activities; One Passionate Life-Changing Kiss; Countless Instances Of Expression Of Intense Carnal Desires; One Attempted But Rejected Instance Of Sexual Congress; And Eight Quadrant Flippings; Not To Be For Sale To Trolls Ten Sweeps Or Younger".

She could tell it was older because of the shorter title, likely written more than one hundred sweeps ago. Naturally, humans had much shorter titles for their novels that really didn't tell anyone anything about the book. Really, it was simply amazing to Kanaya how humanity ripped valuable ideas from the trolls and got the idea of claiming it for their own and ruining them when they were perfectly good on their own.

Her matesprit would likely be the only human to truly understand the nature of such a thing. Rose's literary passion lay in reading these original troll fiction-genre novels. She'd found it relatively easy to learn written Alternian, considering the only legal way to get the novels published was to add English translations directly underneath the original Alternian characters and pass it off as English translated to Alternian.

Naturally, there were very few Alternian novels. A _troll_ paperback romantic comedy, shitty as it may be, was a rare sight in Ro-Lal's Library.

"It's been a while since we've come across anything written in my mother tongue," Kanaya remarked pleasantly, choosing not to respond to Rose's reassurance of the safety of John.

"Precisely. It seems this day is getting more and more exciting. Any and every day has its little things if you are willing to sit down and nit-pick through, really," Rose added, giving Kanaya one last chance to continue the discussion. "Today just seems to be that much more so to you, with your heightened anxieties. Positivity might help."

"I guess you are correct, as always," bluntly answered Kanaya, and it became clear that there was not going to be a therapy session for a bit.

Rose quickly retracted the smutty troll novel and got on her tip-toes in order to set it on the top-most shelf, where very few people actually took their books from. She'd learned of the trick from Kanaya; she, herself, would ever-so-stealthily move her favorite books up one shelf just to reduce the risk of it being chosen.

"So, do you know when they will be arriving?" Rose casually asked as she finished, dusting off her skirt from the movement of old books. No connotation that her matesprit was intended to elaborate was present.

"As of yet. I can presume John will show with his…employee in less than half an hour. The poor boy is simply too enthusiastic about such things. I would not be surprised if he arrived here panting from the running he's doing." Kanaya smiled a bit, recalling John's nature. Positivity was working so far.

"Well, then, our little 'study' can take place very soon. How would you suggest our duo would fare on the matter of stamina?"

"I wouldn't put it past John to wear himself out." Kanaya stiffened a bit upon having to speak of the new help, but did not restrain her response. "And as you have stated, I have not seen much of Karkat, though I think he will not have a problem keeping up, if he has been chosen well. He has to; we all do."

"It's my turn to tell you, I doubt truer words have been spoken," Rose laughed again, but she paused to think over her response. "If it's so, then I'm sure, to have survived this long, his stamina must be something to boast about greatly. It could be great experience or great genes. With a name like 'Karkat', I'd say he's obviously not from anywhere on this corner of the map."

"'Karkat' is certainly a strange name for a person. It is not one I would have thought to name my offspring..."

Kanaya paused for a moment. Something felt like it was connecting her to the statement, but she could not be sure what.

Clouds, dark and light from different light sources, crowded the sky as a thin wind blew continuously around Prospit. The light turned the buildings warm and golden as the streets appeared to sparkle. It was a welcome sight to many locals each day, if they woke up early.

A few stray villagers were gathered around the city at just slightly after the crack of first dawn. When they saw the untypical duo of John and Karkat, they hardly bat an eyelash. Just John and a guy in an ugly robe running. That was nothing to them when they had to work. Sure, well-known John was considered to be fairly benevolent and overall nice, if not a little eccentric in tastes, but they were only plebeian pawns in the great feudal system; what did they care?

John didn't care much at the moment, either. Karkat was catching up easily as they ran, fuming as he undoubtedly was, and the edge of the neighborhood was in sight. Soon, they'd be near that caravan wagon!

The cobblestone streets began to end as tufts of grass sprung up between cracks. The houses became somewhat sparse in comparison to John's relatively cluttered block. And finally, the trees were visible. Oh, how close they were! They could almost smell the musty, woody pulp of book pages!

"We're really close by now, Karkat! We've just got to find the caravan in these woods, first. The library's in there."

"Why's it in the woods?"

"No time to explain! I can see it already! Hurry, we don't want to be any later than we have to be!"

"I can't see it, fucknugget! Where is this overhyped collection of novels supposed to be?"

"Right there!" John pointed furiously to a shadowy mass as they began to fly by tree after tree. How could Karkat not notice, it was right there!

Karkat hissed under his breath. There was only this vaguely caravan-shaped blob visible in these fucking trees, and it didn't look like anything to brag about. He'd used such wagons as hideouts to evade capture by angry mugging-victims when he was _desperate_.

Yet, of course, John had shady friends that spent their free time hanging around in such places. Not that Karkat technically could judge; his primary socialization spots were dungeons and dark alleys. And apparently, now dark forests were added to the list. Great.

Just like that, John arrived at the door, and Karkat not long after John. The human was tired and a little sweaty from sprinting like that, but he simply couldn't wait to meet with Rose and Kanaya again. Karkat, naturally, did not sweat as much, though even he had to catch his breath for a second. He was a street urchin, not some sort of professional runner.

"Rose! Kanaya!" John called cheerfully, a little out of breath as he stuck his head out of the doorframe and waved.

Rose waved back, and Kanaya nodded. The troll woman's expression looked slightly relieved, if John was not mistaken. She was probably waiting for John for quite a while!

"S-so, I'm going to meet your_ troll_ seamstress, am I?" Karkat whispered as he sneered, preparing to catch John in his prank and proclaim that he'd known he was pranking him all along. Then, maybe Egbert wouldn't be so smug about his pranking.

He was still a little nervous, though; what about that Rose human he was supposed to meet? Why was he realizing only now that maybe she'd mean something to him?

"Yep! There's Kanaya now. Rose is the girl to the left, if you can't tell them apart by now." John whispered, disappearing out of the doorframe and the snark sisters' view. He quickly opened the door fully, striding in with utmost confidence and warmth.

Karkat, meanwhile, stayed behind a second, mentally preparing to deal with some incredible girl bullshit from the humans. He wasn't being paid enough to deal with his having to deal with shit. As a matter of fact, he wasn't sure he was going to be paid at all.

Without hesitation, John stepped into the metaphorical spotlight as the girls surveyed him, turning to him and waving elegantly. Kanaya stood proud and strong, with her jade dress shimmering slightly. Her horns were as prominent as always. Rose, herself, looked a little disappointed, probably because Kanaya had been a huge gossip and told her that she might be meeting Karkat. Hey, where was Karkat, anyways?

The small troll slipped through the doorframe just as John was starting into his social-butterfly schtick. His eyes carefully darted from John to the people opposite him. From his knowledge, the one called Kanaya was eyeing him suspiciously, the same way she did the night before, though her gaze was now markedly less resigned. That was all Karkat could tell; for all he knew, she was glaring at him in her own special way. He'd barely even looked at her face at first. But now, he was paying special attention to it. Her face was grey like his, and her lips were glossy with black lipstick and her horns were proudly displ-

_Her _horns_? What the ever-loving fuck? How the fuck was she still alive?_

John wasn't joking, Karkat quickly realized. Kanaya was a troll, and public about it, and there were _two humans right now who didn't even try to cull her on sight sitting right next to her like equals._

His eyes widened a bit on the sight of the troll's colorful, jade garb and her overall orderly appearance. He just couldn't understand. She was doing so goddamn well and she was a _troll_?

_How was she doing it?_

Karkat had to use every thinking muscle he had to avoid freaking out right there and then. The fact still remained that the girl beside her was being covered up by John, who was still loudly making small talk. He presumed that human girl would be Rose. The name still felt weird on his tongue, though he was now getting more and more convinced that it was just the harshness of English and Alternian languages colliding in this thinkpan.

Quickly, he scampered behind John to avoid being noticed by the unseen human. As much as the derp was annoying, he had to admit he felt like he was safe behind the wall of distracting derpy happiness he formed. The harsher of assumptions that were soon to be made about him wouldn't make it over the derpiness wall. Until he'd come out from behind it on his own time, that is.

But of course, Kanaya had to meddle in his anxiety and state in her clear-cut tone, "I think Karkat is here as we speak, John."

"How exciting! If he would be kind enough to come out into public view, I'd be elated," came the smooth tone of the human, Rose. A shiver ran down Karkat's spine. His excuses for Rose quickly wore thin. Something was strange about her; he knew her from somewhere, possibly.

"Pffft, you'll probably scare him away with your weird psychological shit! Wait, no, here he is. He's behind me. I think Kanaya told you about him, Rose." John yakked as if Karkat wasn't listening at all.

Karkat was very busy stewing over the person he knew but didn't know when John yanked on his arm forcefully, just as hard as the guard did. Suddenly, light and shapes and colors were cluttering Karkat's sensitive vision. His hood was the only thing sheltering his eyes. It was quickly apparent that he was no longer behind John.

John was completely ignoring Karkat's troubles. "This is Karkat! I guess you've met him, Kanaya, but he's part of my staff now. Just in case you didn't know."

Karkat blinked once, completely taken by surprise. The sight of Kanaya became clearer, the hard keratin of her horns gleaming a little, taunting him. The girl beside her was now visible, as well, her violet eyes shining with an unspoken wisdom far surpassing her years. Her lips were painted artfully just as black as her troll counterpart's. Her short, close-cut blonde locks were accented by a neat black hairband, the same way he remembered it those few sweeps ago.

_Those few sweeps ago?_

_Rose from 'those few sweeps ago'?_

_Rose Lalonde?_

Karkat stood silently, trying to keep his shock hidden as the two females stared him down. Not her! The last person he wanted to see was _Rose fucking Lalonde_. Now Karkat was rueing the very day he'd decided to take pity on a human girl instead of ankling it away like he should have.

Rose's expression changed none, though she knew that something was off about this purported street urchin.


	9. Meet The People

Good knight! Or king. Or queen. Or prince. Or whichever noble figure you wish to be!

I need to apologize for my lateness of update. I said I'd get it to you faster, then I make you wait even longer...sorry!

I've been feeling somewhat out of my groove lately, and I'm trying to get out it so I don't disappoint any readers, but I'm afraid for the time being my chapters will be somewhat short in comparison to other chapters. Such as this one. Only 3.5k words!

In the next chapter, I'll get on with the plot, really I'm just beating a dead horse here. u_u

_Disclaimer: you know by now._

* * *

><p>Karkat growled to himself silently, having to keep himself from hiding away in his cloak. He'd managed to get himself entangled with<em> Rose fucking Lalonde, whom he never wanted to see again ever because she was the worst human he'd ever dealt with<em>.

For the moment, it didn't seem like Lalonde had fully recognized him. The only sign that she even recognized him at all was a speculative look about her, though that may have just been her face. Karkat was no less convinced to dart back behind John.

Yet, the troll was still worrie-no, not worried, just cautious. It'd been a long time ago since he encountered her; surely, she wouldn't remember a scruffy street urchin. His entire appearance had been crafted around that fact. He'd lived out seven and a half sweeps, spent out on blistering cobblestone streets by day and freezing dirt paths by night, by avoiding standing out. It had to work.

His jaw clenched from stress. Not a single word was said. Kanaya, the unreasonably lucky jadeblood, took the sudden silence as an opportunity to confirm her thought processes.

"John," she nodded somewhat stiffly towards the blue-robed human before turning to the hooded stranger, "and Karkat."

John only nodded in return, only just having noticed that an air of awkwardness exhuberated itself onto the general atmosphere. He quickly clasped his hands together to reassure himself, resisting the urge to pace about.

"So this is the fabled assistant, John?" Rose asked. "I take it both of your mornings have been pleasant ones, by all means."

Her words, though not malevolent, were void of genuine meaning. They only served as pleasantries: in reality, the human girl took great pleasure in scrutinizing Karkat's appearance and reactions. Snarky broads like her weren't stupid. She knew she'd seen him from somewhere - somewhere very important. But where would she remember someone like him from?

What was it about this one help that rang a few bells?

There was no response from Karkat. Partially because his voice might prompt her to remember him, and partially because his throat was very nearly paralyzed. Unfortunately for the troll, John took it upon himself to be as unhelpful a sap as he could ever possibly be.

"_Karkat,_" he whispered. "_it's okay. These are my friends. They're really cool when you get to know them, so I suggest you get to know them._"

"_And what if I decide not to open my gaping word hole in front of these morons?_"

Karkat spoke even quieter than John did, so the human had to strain his ears to get each word. It was still very obvious that the help was agitated. Rose was looking very keenly at the entire exchange; Kanaya was less obvious about it.

"_Dude, no. These are my _friends_ and they'll be your friends, too, if you treat them nicely._"

"_Hey, didn't I already tell you that I don't have friends? Because that wasn't a joke! Is there some sort of cryptobaffling mind fuddlery going on or have you forgotten already?_" The troll put venom on the last four words, daring John to try to contradict him in public.

John opened his mouth, as if to retort with something witty or convincing or perhaps a direct argument, but it was lost on the world as he realized his predicament. _Trapped via social conventions, huh? Karkat's a wily one._

The only response, in the end, was a cold look and a shaking of the head.

The two female viewers glanced knowingly at the entire exchange.

Rose cleared her throat and walked away from the bookshelves, opting to move closer to the new arrival, feeling slightly vindicated by John's tone of voice. Kanaya dusted a few of the titles off of the bookshelf and tried not to look at Karkat more than was polite.

"For the sake of brevity, I will have to allow my question to remain infinitesimally forgotten." Rose rubbed her lips together, casually freshening her layer of lipstick as she walked. "Perhaps, the time for such pleasantries is not now, despite the circumstances by which we are here."

The click-clacking of heels stopped before the help. Without hesitation, Rose held out her pale, thin hand. Karkat flinched impulsively.

"It's very nice to make your acquaintance, Karkat."

The help's gaze was caught between John and Rose and Kanaya, suddenly having him find that he really shouldn't have upset John. Even if his life was on the line here, John might have actually been able to make up for such utter embarrassment on his part. Plus, there was marginal comfort associated with the derp. Past Karkat was such an _idiot._

His gaze darted furiously about the shelves and floors, leaving the woman's hand still outstretched and waiting. John cast a glare at Karkat, prompting him to shake it, but the troll would have none of it. Still, the way Lalonde was looking at him…

Rose's looming nature eventually broke through Karkat's reluctance. The employee took her hand and quickly shook it, avoiding eye contact and trying to hide his grey skin tone from that terrible human girl. He did incline his head in agreement, however, because he did acknowledge her character.

He'd say "terrible" when talking about her, yes, but it's not that she was bad. Not _really_. She was just possibly the only person who could make him look bad in front of the guy he's temporarily enslaved to at the moment.

Rose was not in the least bit fooled by the urchin's weak attempts at hiding his skin. It was utterly grey, perhaps from dirt or soot, and even she knew that most urchins were not this thoroughly caked in street powders.

But she had personally known one that was.

She looked at Karkat and winked, though his head was not upright to witness it. Oh, yes, she knew this boy well. Very well. After all, he may possibly have saved her life.

Kanaya stood near the bookshelves, but had carefully walked closer to the trio as to slip by unnoticed. She noted that Karkat still had what appeared to be dirt on his hands; their presence on his face was still under debate, because the sun had not yet fully risen and allowed suitable lighting into the establishment.

It seemed Rose had already deduced whom Karkat could possibly be just from a few minutes of interaction, however. Kanaya did not want to be falling behind.

She did not extend her hand, as Rose had done. But she gave a hopeful smile, which was likely the wisest thing she could do, even if she did not exactly mean it.

John frowned slightly at the whole moment. It wasn't as warm and friendly as he'd expected. Luckily, the two major parties had shaken hands and all seemed to be well, so he'd settle for that. He gave Rose a one-arm hug, and did the same to Kanaya, who went stiff but beared it without desire to complaint.

"So…er, wow, Rose, I haven't seen you in a while, huh? I forgot to ask how you're doing!" John put his hand on his arm, examining the mobile library. "Nothing's really changed, has it? You've been in here, buried in books all this time?"

"Of course. There are few places I'd rather be within, in all honesty," she cooed, turning her gaze to the small cluster of bookshelves. She kept her sentences short, wanting little more than to address her _acquaintance_ properly.

Karkat allowed his eyes to trail off to the side, seemingly skimming over his surroundings. For a cautious troll on edge, he was seemingly fretting over nothing - he hadn't seen any signs of cognizance on Lalonde's part...yet.

"So, then, have you had an enjoyable time since our last meeting?" Rose asked. Her gaze turned directly to Karkat, fixing the hooded boy with a cold gaze. He flinched.

"I don't know what you're talking about. I have never met you before."

"Oh my, I apologize if I may have caused you to think otherwise, but I was not addressing you, Karkat," Rose replied, smiling as she turned her gaze to John once more. Her tone was not mocking, but it was very much apparent that she was teasing.

Kanaya was laughing from behind her hand.

Karkat fumed inwardly, which meant, naturally, that he was fuming externally. What he wouldn't give to cuss out everyone here and now and return back to his cozy alleys! He didn't give a fuck about fresh food at the moment, this was just intolerable frothing looneyblock nonsense. The door was still open, he could probably outrun all of them if he'd get a good head start...

"Yeah, I guess I have!" John picked up where Rose left off, albeit slightly confusedly. "I mean, it wasn't so enjoyable at first. I got lost buying bread yesterday, which lead to a bit of weirdness that brought us Karkat - don't look at me like that, Kanaya! - but it's not actually that bad, heh. I got a new employee and that's pretty good!"

Rose nodded politely at the right parts and smiled where it was needed. Her shifting gaze was, once again, cast on Karkat.

"So how about you, Rose? Are your bookworm senses _tingling_ with new books?" John teased a little, bringing a chuckle from Kanaya.

Karkat cocked his head a little, eyes slipping unnoticed to John's ecstatic profile. He couldn't help but feel a stirring of disgust at the poor _joy_ the boy carried and regenerated like a third limb. It was annoying and pointless, this whole ordeal was annoying and pointless.

The girl clasped her hands in front of her, smirking softly at the two boys. Her own head tilted just a fraction, matching Karkat's movements, as she continued to politely study him.

"There are numerous interesting titles that have newly arrived, a few of which I might set aside to read for myself." Her violet eyes flickered from Karkat to John.

"You've got your nose in those weird books most of the times I see you!" John started to calm down, since the situation was now tame and much less awkward.

Another somewhat less sneaky glance towards his employee and then to Rose confirmed that all this situation needed was a touch of Egbertian charm. The only thing slowing John was the fact that he was somewhat confused over Rose's unsubtle scrutinizing of Karkat.

It didn't seem to be harsh scrutiny. John thought it was more the glance she gave someone she was trying to figure out. (He wasn't quite sure, though. Rose's calm, demure nature meant you had to guess what she was thinking without much of a clue as to what it could be.)

"I'm pretty sure you're the store's best customer, Rose. And you own it!"

"Our dear Rose is a bookworm, what can I say," Kanaya said calmly, with a semblance of what might have been a simper.

Rose smiled, nodding as she looked over at Kanaya affectionately. Her eyes gradually shifted back to Karkat, who was quickly growing fed up with her glances.

"What?" The troll forced out the words like they had a bad taste in his mouth.

"Me? I'm merely curious," Rose said innocently.

"Curious_? _You're_ curious?_" He turned to the girl with a look of disbelief on his face.

"It would appear so."

Rose was silent from there, leaving the troll to fume to himself. What the fuck was she playing at? Did she know who he was or not?

"Well, am I supposed to sit there like a fastidious old crone and put up with your goggling shit all day, Lalonde? Or wh-"

Karkat cut himself off, straightening up a bit with a dying curse on his lips when he realized his mistake. The girl quirked a brow, arms crossed gracefully across her chest as she drummed her fingers along her arm. The air grew cold as John and Kanaya caught on to the situation.

"I do not believe I told you my last name," she said, tilting her head a bit, victoriously tranquil. He _did_ remember her, and now she'd be able to lead into a very nice reveal. The situation was playing out very well.

Karkat stared defiantly at the girl, not knowing what exactly to do besides show bravado. Fuck! He was being given away! And knowing Lalonde, she was going to go on with it and probably recognize him and _shit this was not good._

"Yes…you do look familiar. Very familiar. I do believe that I remember you, _Karkat_."

Kanaya's meddling senses were burning like they were on fire.

Initially, she was going to cast the reproachful glare that she was holding back, but soon the issue escalated and now it seemed Rose and Karkat had a past. Is it really so?

This was interesting. She had not known of such an event. Her ears perked up from curiosity and she leaned in closer, eager to learn more.

John, himself, was trying as he could to not allow his mouth to drop open (haha, thanks, Dad, that may not have been a real fly, but you sure taught me!) in shock.

Well, this quickly took a turn for what seems to be the worse. His blue eyes couldn't decide where to look, so they kept shifting between Rose, Karkat, and Kanaya (who was looking almost meddlesome, what was she up to?).

He desperately wanted to ask every question on his mind, but even he knew this wasn't the time. It was mostly between Rose and Karkat now. He didn't know what exactly was going on but it still felt all tension-y and he didn't like it.

The smile had dropped and twisted itself into a silent "_oh_".

If it was possible, the air grew stiller.

_Ben_ Stiller.

"Oh god," Karkat only managed to force out two words from his lips before resignedly lowering his head. Those were exactly the reactions he didn't want. He had no chance of escape now, not while he was under Lalonde's scrutiny.

"Mister Karkat Vantas, if I am correct?"

"Yeah, yeah," he snapped, arms crossing tightly and protectively over his chest.

"Interesting. Kind sir, it is _very_ nice to see you again." Rose smiled, but this time there was genuine warmth in the expression.

"Bluh, oh, you've finally got me, clearly this entitles you to teasing me for my _kind_ _deeds_, which, technically speaking, _never actually happened_," Karkat put stress on the last three words, looking increasingly irritated. His head popped up as if to make a point, but his face remained unseen.

"…K-Karkat? Rose?" John looked mildly disgusted at the two of them, as if they'd done something unspeakable together. "You a-and..._her?_"

Rose laughed at John's remark, and Karkat growled furiously. Kanaya merely raised her hand to her lips, whether to gasp or giggle was unknown.

"Fuck no! You're braying up the wrong fro- tree!" Karkat hissed, in his rage nearly forgetting to correct himself. Rose took little notice, instead focusing on dispelling possible rumors.

"No, don't be ridiculous, John. Nothing of the sort. I suppose you two would prefer to know the truth?"

John just stood there borderline slack-jawed for a moment before remembering that Rose had asked a question. He had almost no idea what went down other than the fact that Rose knew Karkat from somewhere (possibly…er, of _that_ way) and he didn't. Rose was almost _smug_ about it. Karkat just seemed to be ashamed, and Kanaya...well, even Kanaya seemed excited. This wasn't what he expected at all.

"Oh, uh, yes," the boy flustered a bit, trying to get his bearings together.

Kanaya nodded slowly, though secretly her meddling senses were on the verge of exploding.

What went down at the moment was much more interesting than small talk. It concerned her and John. She may just get more cause to decide if Karkat was worth keeping. Not to mention it was what might be considered the horrible but enthralling art of gossip.

Rose's lips quirked up a bit more as she made her way to the back of the library. She pulled out a few chairs, sitting down in one and offering her visitors the other three. The movement caused the musty scent of books to waft once more.

"Please, have a seat and I shall share."

Karkat, growling under his breath still, sat down in the chair farthest from the group with his arms crossed around his knees and chin on them. He was glaring at Rose, who smiled in return with an almost mischievous glint in her eyes.

John sat down in the nearest seat almost too quickly. He shot a hopeful look at Karkat as he settled in and listened to Rose start to tell her story. Maybe it'd be something good about him. Or something embarrassing. It could even be both. Whatever it was, he was going to find out.

"When I was younger, as you all know, Mother and I spent much of our time traveling on the streets...for reasons I couldn't say."

Rose looked slightly uncomfortable for a second. However, John and Karkat didn't heed her expression any notice, because they were both visualizing Rose's childhood. Traveling in a wagon alongside her mother, rolling the library up to different towns to try and get some business in. Glorious, open, and free.

When they had the sense to look back at Rose to demand more, her expression had once again cleared up.

"We would sometimes join up with other caravans in sorts of alliances, for protection against anything out there that may want to hurt us. And other times, we would be unable to find anyone. Like those occasions, on this particular night, it was just us and our horse, Maplehoof." Rose looked to her right as she spoke, as if reliving the very life itself.

Kanaya was calmly listening along, and nodded at her mention. To others, it might have looked like she was politely listening along to a retelling of a story she knew, but both she and Rose knew she had never heard it before. Her ears were already straining to pick up every detail, inflection, and emphasis.

She nodded, adding, "It's true. I never quite knew the streets as well as Rose did, and I believe I was born on them."

"Indeed. We, of course, had little defense against others in those times of solitary travel. There was little need to think we would call upon such a thing: I had been a bit more carefree a child and Mother was never one for safety. You could almost say we 'had it coming'.

"We were traveling along some of the back roads down south, skirting the foothills. I remember, it was dark then. The roads dragged for so long that where we were, we were quite a ways away from anything other than small villages. I think we were beside a forest, possibly even this very forest that this library is located in, because my beautiful new skirt had been getting covered in burrs and morning dew.

"It had been a long day of travel. The sky was starting to darken, and Maplehoof was getting tired, so Mother drew Maplehoof to a stop off the side of the road. We were getting out a snack for Maplehoof before bedtime, I believe, when it happened. Right when I jumped into the back of the wagon to search for something a small horse could eat, two burly men appeared on the opposite side of the road!

"Now, I can't tell you exactly what they looked like, because it was very dark. But I was precocious enough to notice they were wielding what looked like blunt weapons. The moment they saw me look their way, these men started hollering in a language I couldn't understand."

"Lalonde, you fucking stop right there, or I swear-"

Rose interrupted, "They began to rush toward us, gesticulating and shouting. They were demanding everything we had, wagon and all. Mother was…unable to comply given her current mental state-" John mouthed the word _drunk,_ "-and I was both too weak and too frightened to do much of anything.

"They then began threatening our lives when neither of us moved, one pressing a sword to Mother's neck while the other grabbed me up by the hair and whipped me with a spiked branch. That may seem somewhat tame as a weapon, but don't forget how young I was. I didn't know better.

"Naturally, I was calling for help, but, of course, expected nothing in such an uninhabited area." She paused, smoothing her skirt down over her knees and taking the story at a leisurely pace.

Kanaya was enthralled. Rose was describing it more vividly than most stories she remembered reading. She found herself a little disappointed when said human paused the retelling, because she was enjoying this much more than she let herself show.

John, meanwhile, was letting all of his thoughts spill right out onto his expression. He had never known that Rose had faced such danger, and felt somewhat upset about that. For the most part, though, he was curious. Was Karkat going to attack her or help her?

He was never the best at guessing a plot. His books always managed to catch him off guard when a character blundered terrifically in the middle. He was always fully prepared to see the mission go downhill.

This left the suspense for him. He wasn't going to try to guess the plot, anyhow. John wanted to hear it from Rose's lips.

Karkat was glaring off to the side, just _waiting_ for her to continue. He came in right about now, after all.

Rose studied the faces of her audience, expression pulling up into a demure expression of satisfaction.

"The next thing I remember clearly was the man holding me lying on the ground. My mother and the other man took a little while longer to notice, and by that time, our friend, Karkat, was already upon him. I heard furious swearing from both parties, but only my assailant was scared. For such a small thing, Mr. Vantas can put up quite the fight." Rose smiled over at Karkat as he withdrew further on himself and glared at the wall beside him, unsuccessfully trying to suppress a groan.

"He took down both men and helped us along the trail, ultimately chasing them off when they attempted to follow. He took Mother's assailant's sword for his own, naturally, but he never used it on either of us once. Nor had he the time to. Sadly, he departed almost as quickly as he arrived and allowed little time for any show of thanks. I only just managed to ask his name, before he vanished out of sight.

"In short, I likely owe my life to this brave man. Thank you, Karkat Vantas."

The troll rolled his eyes, cheeks warming in an embarrassed blush. He hated being put on the spot- moreso when it was for something he'd done _right_. Still moreso when it involved a _human!_

If it was bad, he could just go up ranting and yelling, but compliments like these? They did not sit well with him.


	10. The Ballad of Sir Matthew McConaughey

Living in the sunlight, loving in the moonlight, hope you're having a wonderful time!

This chapter is a little short, but the plot gets moved substantially so I can quickly leave you on...another cliffhanger! That's right. I'm a terrible person for doing it twice in a row. My inspiration is still waning, but I've been absorbing culture through osmosis so I can write a ten thousand times better for you guys!

By the way, thanks for all the nice reviews. They're what keep me writing! I might even make a story cover since those are things now! uou

I felt especially snarky today, so enjoy my last-minute snarkification. Of snarkiness.

_Disclaimer: fifty-five thousand, five hundred fifty five units of monetary currency to someone who can tell me the disclaimer's general content._

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><p>Kanaya had no idea what to think of this situation. Did this mean she could trust Karkat? Was his moral fiber enough of a basis to judge a house boy on?<p>

She didn't know the answer to any of those questions. The fact of the matter was, the only thing she knew about anyone at the moment was the fact that Rose was entirely aware of the audience's captivation and the raised questions. The demure smirk playing on her lips was glaringly obvious to the long-time matesprit.

She would have spoken, but it seemed John had gotten to the question first. The troll settled for pursing her lips and smiling almost imperceptibly. Karkat's reaction was almost enough to fully trigger Kanaya's.

Almost was the key word here, she thought, as she continued to listen in.

John was near dumbfounded. "This was Karkat?"

He could not believe that such a creature like Karkat (who barely ate his meal yesterday and arrived in a cloak) had taken down two men, who, from the way Rose was telling it, were much, much larger than he was. It almost seemed like a lie. Still, Rose had not ever lied to her friends, as far as John knew.

The natural reaction, of course, was to stare down his mysterious employee. He found he had joined Kanaya in furtive examination of the hooded teen, and so turned away, opting to goggle him out of peripheral vision.

"I already told you, Lalonde. It was nothing, now shut your fleshy mouth protuberances, would you?"

"Oh, come now, Karkat. You saved not only my mother and I, but our equine companion as well. That was the work of a true good samaritan."

"Fuck you, you are obviously patronizing me, now. You're probably feeding off my sheer shame like a vampire."

Kanaya flushed a little at the word, having been reminded of her aspirations.

John just awkwardly smiled before setting his eyes off the somewhat disgruntled-looking Karkat. His mouth still hung a little bit open, his overbite threatening to reveal itself completely.

"Wow," he simply said, a statement with not much to it. He was impressed, and surprised, and the only word to convey it was just spoken.

Of course, that was not all he wanted to say. He had just started to soak in what had occurred. Turning to the hooded boy, John added, "Karkat, I didn't know you were a hero! That's really neat!"

"I admit I'm just as surprised over Karkat's golden past, if not more, than John is," Kanaya stated after John had finished his piece. It seemed the excitement was getting to her, too, and keeping her calm exterior was getting more difficult. The flurry of activity felt like it seeped into her through osmosis.

Rose giggled softly behind her hand as Karkat struggled over how to snap at John and Kanaya without actually snapping at John. He ended up gritting his teeth, glaring toward the boy and casting a quick, furious glance at the secondary troll.

"Oh my god! Just shut up! It was just one fucking thing in my whole pathetic excuse of sev-fifteen years! If I'd known Lalonde over there was going to bring it the hell back up…" he seethed, emitting a low, gritting sigh. His hand instinctively moved toward his face, rubbing at it from sheer embarrassment. God, that flub had to have been noticed! He was nothing short of dead meat!

The library's owner only looked at Karkat curiously, adjusting her position in her seat. She had distinctly heard Karkat start to say "seven" instead of "fifteen", for whatever reason. Nobody else seemed to be confused, other than her.

Was she really the only one who noticed?

Fine, then. Perhaps she was mistaken. Perhaps he was stopping himself from lying about his age; seven_teen_ was a common age to lie about.

Rose Lalonde didn't let down her guard, however. She rarely made these sort of mistakes.

John was a little taken aback, but really he was almost expecting some rage now that he'd said it. Karkat was busy sulking earlier, and from what he'd found in their first meeting, he wasn't exactly happy-go-lucky, dancing and skipping around playing a pan flute or something.

Oh great, now he'd have to try and cover up an inward grin at the mere thought.

Soon, John got so lost in thought over pan flute Karkat, he didn't notice the Freudian slip. Not that he would have had an inkling of an idea about it - he was not the human learning foreign languages. Maybe it was the language from Karkat's homeland. He wouldn't have pushed.

Kanaya, on the other hand, had just found that she wanted to meddle even more. What kind of person mixed up two very different numbers? A quick glance at Rose, with intent to meet her eyes, gave her nothing. For now, she'd give him the benefit of the doubt.

"Oh, what? How can you not be even a little happy about saving someone's life? That's a ridiculous thing to say." John was not easily shaken down.

The smaller boy seemed to draw in on himself protectively upon noticing the two ladies' knowing looks. Past Karkat was nothing less than an insipid excuse for a grubfisted douchebag for going and helping some masochistic human! He made himself want to stab his bone bulge with a fork sometimes.

Now he had to deal with some humans' shit all over again!

"Why does it even matter? Don't you worthless, masochistic h-ignoramuses have that fucking saying? That, uh, that whatever the fuck is in the past stays in the same fucking past? Just drop it. God."

The last word directed towards himself; he seemed to be having more and more trouble keeping his speech something as blatantly simple as being human. Which was fucking terrible, considering that there was now a suddenly looming threat of being exposed!

Even if John were to stand up and be persuasive, there is no fucking way he'd be able to keep a pathetic excuse for a troll like him from being culled.

Rose folded her hands in her lap, looking down at them through partially open eyes as she listened closely to Karkat's speech. It was faltering now, corrections made just a bit too quickly before he said the wrong word for it to flow smoothly. _H-ignoramuses_, for one.

This time, she raised her eyes to Kanaya, cocking a brow. What little detail did she miss about Karkat from all those years ago?

Who exactly _had_ John brought home?

At this, John gave what could almost be considered in Egbertian terms as a frown; to the outside world, it was a straight, narrow line for a mouth. His eyebrows raised a little in surprise.

"Okay, then," he somewhat awkwardly backed off, raising his hands towards his chest in a gesture of surrender. "You don't need to be so defensive over something like that, Karkat."

His body language suggested that he was letting it go, and really, he was (that's what decent earls did, respect boundaries!). Karkat was just being weird. Maybe that was normal for him. John did only meet Karkat yesterday, during which day the former was being mugged by the latter. He acted differently from most of the people John knew, too. That was a reasonable explanation.

Still, who'd be upset over their own heroism? Nobody could be that modest. There was no way.

Kanaya made a look that could only be described as perplexed. She hadn't recalled Karkat ever stumbling over his speech. He just sounded secretive, which was forgivable for his first day (or so the female troll told herself). When did this happen?

Karkat remained drawn in on himself, just about in a fetal position as he glared down at his own knees in an attempt to block out the obvious glances his way by that stupid Lalonde. The troll sighed to himself, rubbing his face with the palms of his calloused hands as he tried to rub away their apparent investigation of him.

Well, fuck. He just started his service and he was already screwed. And he couldn't get out of it. He was a troll and would have to live by John's side until he repaid his debt, praying that he would not get culled. Fucking incredible.

Rose cleared her throat a bit to break the heavily settling silence, smoothing her dress out.

"If you wouldn't mind excusing me. I really must return to my sorting," Rose pardoned, nodding lightly as she slipped off toward the desk. "Do feel free to browse the selection," she added, glancing back.

Karkat, reluctant, got to his feet. His lips were slightly open and, had he any less presence of mind, his slightly blunt overbite surely would have been protruding because of it.

He could feel Rose watching him, past the binding of a book in her hands, as he glanced boredly across the titles. Not a single human book had anything worthwhile to offer him; namely his knowledge of how to read it. He'd have settled for some chintzy cheap-ass romance novel, if only it were written in Alternian.

Rose took note of his reaction before turning her back to gather up her newest bundle of books to put in their appropriate spots.

Scratching his nape, John had put back his chair and walked straight to a certain section in the library.

It was filled with novels that he knew included his favorite character, Matthew McConaughey. There was a whole gigantic series of books about him, each written by a different author. He didn't care if people said it was "something so unspeakably shitty, it puts the augh in McConaughey" or whatever. He read some chintzy cheap-ass romance novel, just because of Matthew. Man, his cool charisma could salvage any heap of smoldering wreckage. There was even a commissioned painting of the guy, hanging somewhere inside his house!

The slightly torn cover of one book revealed Matthew and another character, his love interest, a woman named Jodie Foster, posing dramatically in a field, with something that looked foreign in the background. (The book revealed it to be some mechanical thing that looks for aliens that live outside the sky. Duh, that can't ever happen!)

Still, John didn't mind a little nonsense. Not when the great McConaughey was involved.

"Karkat!" he called gleefully, as if nothing awkward and possibly life-threatening had just happened. "I am so getting you to read Contact!"

Karkat looked over, confused, before going back to his book search.

"No, don't give in, Karkat. John has literally tried to get _every_ one of us to read his novels," Kanaya casually remarked, subtly stressing every. It was said clearly and loudly enough for the other side of the room to overhear.

John blushed. "No way! That is the worst lie ever."

"You've attempted to make me read one chapter of Armageddon," Rose replied. "Not to mention, I recall Dave was prompted to read Little Monsters. And you succeeded in that task."

"Rose!"

"I remember being told to check out a certain _Con Air_, despite past warnings of the quality of the content inside," Kanaya chimed in.

"I wouldn't be surprised if even Jade was called in to read those novels of yours, John." Rose continued. A fourth party let out an aggravated groan.

"Oh my fucking god, who am I even working for? Some sort of overenthusiastic merciless five s-year old?" Karkat butted in roughly, albeit a little awkwardly. "Good to know I'm getting my eternal torment in the form of a squishy idiot with bad taste in books."

John choked a little from disbelief. "Dude, you can't say that, have you even read any of them?"

The help scoffed. "I read an alternate version of Little Monsters. It's stupid. You're stupid for liking that. Case closed."

"Wow, rude, you didn't even read the original," John muttered, feeling more than a little offended. "Am I supposed to assume that you have awesome taste in books?"

"Your stupidity is boring a hole right into my brain. Would you look at that? It's managing to give me a hernia from the sheer power of your idiocy!" John rolled his eyes. "Obviously, I have the _best_ taste in books. How can you not grasp the brilliance of The Fresh Prince of Bel Air? Will Smith is the best character, he shows those bluebloods how to loosen up when they were being pissy little douchenozzles."

"Oh boy, that sounds great. But…dude, that's not as good as Little Monsters! Have you even seen Howie Mandel's crazy shenanigans? He is the ultimate prankster. He pe-"

Karkat looked sideways at John, his lips pursed. He had paused in the midst of looking over titles, clawed fingers resting on the spine of one of the books to mark his place.

"Fuck you, you're wrong and also a colossal idiot," was his reply, shrugging a bit. "Look, I'm going to take a wild fucking guess that the original piece of shit's only in English, which isn't my native tongue. I can read...Southern style way fucking easier," Karkat said, waving them off as he returned to the titles.

"Southern style?" Rose inquired, taking a few books off of her desk, shuffling their order, and moving to put them up a shelf up from where Karkat was reading over the titles. "Could you possibly be more specific? I may be able to direct you to a more _suitable_ section of books."

Karkat snuffed, wrinkling his nose in distaste at the subject. "Shut your face flap, Lalonde. I didn't say I was goddamn illiterate, just that I have a preference." He felt his hackles raising a bit, feeling as though the librarian was just a little _too_ close, just a little_ too_ insisting.

He swallowed thickly and continued browsing, glaring in dismay at the lack of Alternian titles. He shouldn't have said anything.

John had kept silent through that exchange, mildly curious about what exactly "Southern style" meant but primarily engrossing himself in the wonder that is the cheap action books section. It was filled with so many hidden gems. The cherrywood of the bookshelves served itself well.

"Then we'll have to fix that if you are ever going to know the wonder that is the McConaughey series!" John remarked excitedly. "English or not, you have never read until you have read at least Contact!"

It was now that he noticed Rose was subtly hovering over Karkat, and though Kanaya was slightly more discreet, she watched from the distance just as obviously as Rose hovered. His attention towards the novels wavered dangerously towards disacknowledgement. Did they know something he didn't about Karkat? Something that warranted plenty of staring?

Now John himself was casting glances out of his peripheral vision, trying to figure out what exactly Rose and Kanaya were trying to figure out. Con Air and the like was pretty much abandoned attention-wise at this point.

Karkat's motions seemed stiffer, more measured if not cautious than they had been earlier when it was just himself and John. The two simply would _not_ stop looking! Had he really given himself away so quickly?

"Why the _hell _are you hovering?" Karkat half groaned and half snapped, rounding on Rose with his arms crossed tightly over his chest.

"Oh, calm down, would you?" The human girl sniffed, pressing the last book into place and gently ghosting her hand along the volumes. "I was just putting these away. You know, these shelves are specifically structured with the purveyor's interests in mind." With that and a slight flutter of her dress, Rose whisked off toward her desk once more.

The troll hissed irritatedly and went back to glaring at the volumes on the shelves. With the intensity of his gaze, it seemed he was trying to set a copy of Love at First Smite on fire using the power of his mind.

Kanaya's face remained as motionless as ever, though her gaze was just as intent as Karkat's.

Yes, there was certainly much to investigate. He had definitely tensed since the little whiz of activity at their first actual meeting (Rose and her had an effect like that on people, but not usually after such a strange reunion), and his hood still managed to obscure most of his facial features, exactly like the day before.

Not to mention the whole diction-infused blunder that had just occurred.

Perhaps, for Kanaya's own sake, she would be quiet and say nothing, for there was nothing to say. She wouldn't have a chance to, anyway, for John would be heading off to visit the other human, the one she had mistaken for Rose's brother, very soon.

The troll's eyes did not leave the cloaked figure.

John, meanwhile, _was_ starting to consider leaving. What would he do now if he stayed? Endure the awkwardness and watch Karkat fume over hovering and watching? That wasn't exactly his idea of a good time, even if it was kinda funny to see. Not to mention, Rose was starting to get creepy again.

"Uh, Karkat, you think we should visit someone else now?" John asked. His speech wavered a little from uncertainty. To keep his mind occupied for the moment, he absent-mindedly placed the book in his hand between a space left between two choice Liv Tyler classics.

Karkat's glare shot over to the human boy and just as quickly lessened into a pouting glower. He shifted his pose, moving over toward John with a slight nod. _Finally, some reason reveals itself in these assholes._

Rose clicked her tongue to hide a slight chuckle, still closely watching the way Karkat's stance and expression changed so quickly given light tweaking in the circumstances. From unsteady to murderous to a submissive, albeit feisty, puppy.

Kanaya smiled knowingly, for she had noticed Karkat's shift in behavior, as well. With her intent and hawkish gaze, that was not an easy thing to miss. Such a dominative, angry boy visibly calming after one sentence? How could anyone miss that?

Perhaps, Karkat was not a threat to John. Not if he would soften his glare around the boy after only a day. This statement somehow prompted a slight shuffle towards Rose's position. No other movement crossed her features, but it was plainly obvious that Kanaya's mental gears were turning.

"I suppose I will see you boys later. Do take care, John, Karkat," Rose politely sent them off.

"Bye, Kanaya! Bye, Rose! See you guys next week!" John added, his tone cheerful and almost relieved. This outburst was accompanied by an excessive hand gesture (it might have been a wave even with the boy's butchering of it) and a more understated, "c'mon, Karkat, we can't keep Dave waiting!" directed towards the hooded figure.

The boy politely held the door open, as well, inviting in a tiny gust of warm wind. And with his words, the door was shut. The library went quiet.

Rose whisked over toward Kanaya, her dress flowing at her legs. A woolen rug on the wooden floors served as her end point. Carefully, she leaned toward Kanaya, pressing her lips up against her ear.

"Darling," she said softly, expression showing an almost mischievous smirk splaying itself on her face. "Please do tell me I am not alone in my _assumptions_."

Kanaya let past a small smile, no longer looking up from the two or three remaining shipments she was carrying, all of which were Alternian.


	11. Settle It With A Debate

Hello! Good morning or noon or boring or baboon or whatever state of time your living space is in!

I don't even have an excuse for this horrifying schedule of updating! I mostly got out of my block, but then I just plain forgot about it. Please have a slightly longer (over 4,000 words!) and more driven chapter (which goes pretty much nowhere, ha ha ha ha ha)! I think I characterized the characters a little better in this chapter than I did in most, so please tell me if I still need to work more on that!

_This disclaimer will terminate in five seconds._

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><p>"Why, yes, I did in fact. Being the way I am, it would not be difficult to tell one of my own," Kanaya pleasantly remarked, thinking of Karkat's unusual demeanor.<p>

Kanaya knew Karkat's secret; Rose knew Kanaya knew; Kanaya knew that Rose knew, and the two of them knew it. This was an immutable fact, so immutable it didn't need to be stated the record to be acknowledged. It made the two girls giggle with the inane complication of it all. Had they anyone to gossip with, they'd be blabbing to them in no time flat.

Demurely, of course. They had more decency than to be crude about it. It was all confusing enough as is.

"Whatever could you _mean_, Kanaya?" Rose batted her eyelashes playfully. "Are you suggesting he's a rival to your throne of fashion?"

Kanaya let out a chuckle, clearly amused by the implication. "You know precisely what I mean, Rose. Don't play around with me. _Southern style_ was a very…_fishy_ answer to give, as you humans put it."

"Certainly. I guess seeing in the dark, murky seas of human visual linguistics was not something our dearest friend's brain managed to extrapolate from his years of opportunities."

"Yes, it is incredibly hard to learn to read your language as a troll." Kanaya cleared her throat for the sharing of a bit of troll propaganda. "Alternian is much simpler. You pronounce it exactly as you read it. The Ancestors who devised it precisely engineered the language to be easily learned by even the most challenged grubs by sweep two."

"Unless they happen to resist even the most furtive attempts at education, as Karkat seems to have done." Rose lingered over by the shelves Karkat was perusing; a selection of romantic comedies. Surely, he had not intended to be looking at these books, and probably meant to find something else. It was only his knowledge of the English language stopping him. Rose shifted one slightly skewed novel to its former position.

"Oh, they wouldn't do that. Resistance means certain death. At least, it would back when nobody else was out for our blood."

"Dearest Kanaya, you need not worry about such irrelevant things right now. We should be worrying about our new friend. Is there no excitement stirring deep within the fibers of your being?"

"Yes, well, I'm more worried. I'd prefer not to speak of it." Kanaya pursed her lips slightly. "I'll say this, though. He's a clever guy. He never did actually say he was human. He left us to assume that."

Rose realized Kanaya's reluctance to speak, and kept her response short. "That might be only the experience talking from his mouth. His other words, however, _spilled_ from it. I'm certain he only didn't sound more human because he saw _me_."

Rose paused for a moment, as if making a split-second decision, before continuing.

"I don't entirely know why I'm part of his reveal, seeing as I'm just as guilty of falling for his subtle ploy as you are."

"Come on! Karkat, wait up! Rose was _not_ that bad!"

John ran towards Karkat, who somehow managed to get a decent head-start without having gone any faster than a pacing walk. The help did not show any sign of slowing down, even as the human boy jogged into his place. He was clearly much too pissed to even consider running.

"When you deal with some snarky broad and her horseshit after you provoke her, please, tell me, so we can get into a comfy-ass pile of…pillowy shit and talk it out and ask each other stupid, sappy questions about it and hug it out_ like true fucking bros_," he grumbled, letting the hood of his worn robe slip over his eyes. He couldn't see where he was going, which was just as well. He was getting annoyed just thinking about that whole fiasco, and soon he wouldn't be able to see straight.

"Doesn't mean you have to make me get some unneeded exercise, dude! _Oh, thanks, your imperial Holiness, for blessing me with the gift of running those few extra feet!_" John huffed, displeased at his employee's attitude. "And besides, I would totally be up for bro cuddles. But now isn't the time, since we've still got to see my best friend before we go back home."

Karkat stopped and turned towards John. "Oh god, there's another one! Please tell me he's not like Lalonde was!"

"I'm pretty sure they're related, but he lives in the city and not that spooky old forest."

Karkat groaned in anger and frustration. Why'd he ever agree to go? This was a horrible idea filled with horrible people that made him want to puke into a bucket and then set a door trap for himself with it. One of them being a troll that he was going to see every single day now, for a grand total of two months. She was probably mocking him back at that shoddy excuse for a library.

"Don't be like that. I'm pretty sure you'll won't mind him! He makes swords in a shop along with his brother, who's also his sparring partner and both of them are crazy fast, agile knights with insane slicing powers that defy time itself, or at least that's how I remember someone putting it? Bluh. I don't really know that much about what he does with his life." John muttered the last word and rolled his eyes. Really, Karkat would learn more about Dave by seeing him than listening to his stupid, muddled explanations!

"Wait, so are we actually running any ridiculously important and absolutely right here, right now _valuable_ errands? Because I assumed you'd want to spend your time doing something actually useful." Karkat sneered at his boss. "Yet, apparently, your most important task consists of introducing me to a mystical deity of speed and active lifestyles, shrouded in a mist of coolness and swords! Holy shit! _Sounds like a real fucking hoot, Egbert_!" The employee shook his hands around in an exaggerated display of sarcasm.

"Pffffft, well, yeah. That's pretty much it. Just catching up with friends! I guess if he needs us to run some shitty errand, we can do that." The boy adjusted his glasses as he spoke. "It'll be better, I swear! He can be a real shit sometimes, but he's my best friend for a reason."

This time, Karkat was the one rolling his eyes. John was definitely exaggerating; nobody could possibly have sword slices that defy _time itself_. Still, it only served to begrudgingly pique his interest in the swordsman's personality. He wouldn't mind the ability to be some sort of agile knight, so this guy can't be that shitty, even if he's related to Lalonde. Just who _was_ John introducing him to?

"Whatever." Karkat smoothed his cloak down and turned his gaze to the cobblestone streets, which were blazing hot to the touch. He didn't notice due to the fact that the bottom of his feet were the equivalents of giant, weight-supporting callouses.

The derpy boy let out a small cry of joy at his companion's acceptance of the situation. Right now, it wasn't to be considered as Karkat in whole-hearted agreement; they were probably still going to be visiting the younger Strider even if he refused.

(Of course he was accepting it, he was pretty much John's slave. But John didn't think about that this time.)

"He lives kinda far away from Rose's, but it's closer than leaving from my house so it's not so bad. We'll get there soon enough!" he added, smiling.

Slave or not, he was just going to put Karkat in his entire social circle anyways. Rose was being weird, though not unfriendly, but her brother would totally hit it off with Karkat! John just knew these kind of things. It's like the way his belly button resembled a slime ghost's face from one of his more unusual books.

It just did.

"In a town like this, _nothing_ is far," Karkat said, looking John's way with a cock of his brow. It wasn't as though John would know about his extensive travels, at least, not beyond the fact that he had been, at some point, farther south; a time which he'd feel better forgetting.

John didn't respond. Karkat noticed the way the human's already blindingly bubbly expression seemed to brighten further at whatever mention his mind had made.

"Okay, just what can you possibly be thinking about?"

The moron had been lost in his belly button filled thoughts! Not to say it lasted long. Soon, Karkat's voice snapped him out of his reverie _yet again_, which was really becoming too often. However many times it was.

"Oh, well, uhm, yeah, I guess you're right about the whole not-that-far sorta thing," John responded, temporarily stalling the question. "I was just thinking about one of the books I read. It's kinda weird. You ever heard of Ghostbusters? That's a really great book that you should read, by the way, and if you can't read English in, uh, Northern style, then I'll read it to you if I have to!"

Of course, that was all a half-truth. But if there was one thing John Egbert did not do, it was tell flat-out lies…he hoped. He _was_ serious about reading that book to Karkat, though.

"You are a complete and utter idiot. I have never heard of this Ghostbusters, and as much as I'd love to shock my brain in the bitterly cold waters of your inferior Northern culture, I think I'll pass."

"What if I told you this was a very sacred, important Egbert house tradition? It cannot be broken, it's that sacred. By doing so, you anger the great and powerful spirit of good books."

"That's paganism, asshole." Karkat snorted, not actually caring about religion but still eager to call his boss names.

"I'm joking, jerkbutt. Don't go around sending me to some dungeon right after I save you fro-!"

"- anyways, I don't apply. My name is Karkat goddamn_ Vantas_, and I fail to see the _Egbert_ portion of that."

John laughed a little less than innocently, because the only way Karkat would have his name in there was by marriage, and that really sounded gross, getting married to a _guy,_ not to mention one whom he barely even knows!

Yuck. Now the boy's stomach felt all gross and squirmy and stupid just thinking about it. No, that wouldn't do at all. It's ridiculous. He couldn't let Karkat see, because he knows he'd get teased for that, too. His eyes impulsively darted to a local tavern, then back to Karkat.

"Yup, totally failing to see the obvious Egbert somewhere in there. You've gotta be blind if you can't see that you're part of my house now, dude!" A big grin spread across the boy's face, and Karkat couldn't tell if he was joking again or being serious. "And as such, the sacred ceremony still calls to you!"

Karkat growled.

He shook off what might have been sentiment, and furrowed his brow again. This blue asshole manages to say something decent, and then pisses him off less than five seconds later. What the fuck was he supposed to say after something like that?

_Fucking humans_, that's what. _Fuck them._

"Great, now I'm deaf_ and _blind! And to reinforce this, apparently deaf applies double because I don't hear anything like that, and there is no way in hell that I'm going to answer it, even if I do hear _the willowy whispers of a dying piece of shit novel _call one day."

Somehow, the troll's lips still managed to betray him and turn upwards, just imagining that someone actually manages to reach the inaccurate conclusion that they'd enjoy having him around. No, fucking hell, he was supposed to be annoyed, not amused! This is a human he's talking about!

"Sh, it's because you're a grouch that doesn't beliee_eeeve_ in the power inside!" John burst out laughing at the ridiculousness of the statement, his feet tripping a little on the sidewalk.

"Believe in what power? The power of my internal organs? Do they hold this mysterious fucking voice I'm deaf inside and out to?" Karkat's grin irritatingly pulled at his lips further, causing him to make a pathetic attempt at smothering it. Just as quickly, he grabbed at the giggling John's arm and pulled him out of the way of a merchant in a colorful tunic carrying a basket of apples, which managed to get his mouth to calm the fuck down.

For just a moment, a thought flitted across John's mind. _Dave would really like an apple,_ he pondered, and so the boy turned his head back to the quickly vanishing fruit vendor. A shame that he hadn't brought any spare pocket change with him.

He was still laughing, though; man, was Karkat always this funny? His head swiftly turned back to his friend, who almost looked not upset, the same way he did that one night.

"Yes, Karkat, place all your faith -" John took this moment to try to stifle a cackle from laughing so hard - "in your kidney! You will totally find…hrk…a mysterious voice whispering to you the secret to immortality, which is also Ghostbusters! You just need to look deep…_deep…within yoursel-_"

At this, he cut himself off with another poorly stifled chuckle at his own joke, along with a snort that he would later deny having ever existed.

Any villagers around were undoubtedly looking at them like busting out into giggling fits was a strange thing to do.

"It seems our acquaintance is keeping more than just his face in the dark, hm? He's keeping us in the dark, too." Kanaya happily said, killing any suspense mustered by her matesprit's mysterious statement. "Though, naturally, he would not want it to be any other way, by which I mean if it was any other way, he'd be chopped up into little pieces and fed to the big brown furbeasts. Oh, no, not furbeasts. What were they called?"

"Bears?" Rose suggested.

"Yes, those. Bears."

"Believe me, Kanaya, I couldn't possibly _forget_ about something like that. Such are the injustices of our society. They can bribe the lowly printmakers to allow Alternian text in books, but our great and glorious monarch, the King, lets his rule remain as unjust as his predecessor's."

"I know firsthand, Rose."

"Indeed. I am merely restating what you have proposed, that it may not be his fault for being so shadowy. I'm certain that John would have no objection to the fact that he is more than likely a troll. I'm certain that after that is exposed, there will be little else to hide from us."

"Are you suggesting that all that matters is his being a troll?" Kanaya tutted. Rose blanched a little at her remark and rushed to correct her statement.

"Fuck. I meant merely that after he spills his biggest secret, his little secrets will come out with it. I, uh. Do understand that I did not intend for my words to come out like they did."

"Sure," Kanaya rolled her eyes, but she still smiled mischievously, her fangs peeking out from her onyx lips.

"And with that statement, I conclude that he also had a reasonable motive to mug our dear sweet John. As such, I expect there to be no immediate threat with allowing Mr. Vantas to tag along with him."

Rose glided over to a bookshelf on the far side of the library (which wasn't very far given its housing) to adjust the tilt of one book, _Ghostbusters_. Probably John's doing. She smiled to herself, knowing that John would probably be trying to convince Karkat to read one of his shitty novels.

"I cannot quite agree with you, seeing as I still have plenty of reason to be suspicious. If anything, there will be at least a little meddling involved if I do agree to stop fussing over them."

"Your self-professed specialty comes into play! That is truly the epitome of calm, and not related to fussing at all!"

"Oh, boy. I know you don't quite approve of my methods, but you cannot argue that they are very much interesting ones." Kanaya only closed her eyes for a moment, humming to herself, before letting them flutter open dreamily. "You know you love it when I plot like that, _dear_."

Rose shook her head, willing herself not to laugh.

"I am not quite sure what to do with him. I did initially presume I would merely make a few more normal appearances around the two, though in light of recent events, I am afraid I will have to change that strategy," Kanaya casually added. "As far as I can tell, he is unusually tense, even for one off the streets. I am curious as to _why_."

"As am I," Rose replied.

"I may say without doubt that there is not much to go on. For such a boy who bares his emotions like that, he remains infuriatingly secretive about all else. Had you not met him those sweeps ago and retold it as you did, I doubt I would have any background information on him other than John's explanation."

"There may not be much to go on for either of us, but I would trust John and his judgement. He's a stupid ass, but there is something other than air in the hollow space where his brain goes."

"How blunt," Kanaya said. "You know I love it when you're blunt like that."

"_Dear_," Rose finished the sentence.

"I would still be much more at ease if I could be sure for myself. There's only so much John will be honest about. Though I do still trust his opinion as my master, perhaps I should remind myself I have known Karkat for less than a day. He may act differently towards me than he did to you. As you say, appearances can be deceiving to the mind."

"Fine, then. But I do warn you. Karkat's very aware, as he should be. You will not have a chance of him being oblivious to your subtle lurking."

"I'll see for myself," Kanaya said.

But Karkat was incredibly aware, at this very moment. He was joking around for the first time in months.

"Yeah, well, all my organs are saying is, _holy mother of shit, did he really just snort?_" Karkat teased, casting an invisible glance towards John, who was furtively covering his mouth and glaring at him with a dull intensity. It made him want to laugh and smile, even if the laughing was sarcastic and the smile was more of a mocking smirk.

_Stop getting so fucking attached, Vantas. To a human, least of all! That's literally the worst goddamn thing you could do. You're only going to mess all of this up for yourself, _he reminded himself.

"No way!" John insisted with all manner of seriousness. He was vaguely aware that his feet were getting sore from the walking. "That wasn't a snort, no sir. Maybe your organs are making you hear things that aren't whispers of the beauty of paranormal literature!"

"Yeah. My guts aren't talking to me at all, you know. I think I'd have more to worry about if they _were_ speaking to me. _Hey, yeah, by the way, my stomach just asked me how the weather is out here! I think it's ready to take it to the next motherfucking level._" Karkat rolled his eyes. "But, you know, what is even more stunning is the amount of fucks I'm supposed to give compared to _the fucks I'm not giving_."

John just looked at Karkat with a "really now" sort of expression that he couldn't hope to describe.

"And before I elaborate on just how many fucks I'm hoarding like a dumb shit, can you at least elaborate on where this time-knight person is supposed to be sharpening his swords or something?"

"Shhhhh. Just remember the wise words of Jodie Foster. 'All journeys have secret destinations of which the traveler is unaware.'" John quoted methodically and solemnly.

Karkat was quiet. It was his turn to look unimpressed.

"I am pretty sure your Jodie Foster didn't say a word of that meaningless shit you just spewed out of your garbage chute of a windpipe."

"Fine, then, be a buzz kill! We're almost there. Are you and your gut happy?"

"No, but now my gut and I won't be pestering you about the distance away from our shared moment of sheer stupidity." Karkat ignored the insult thrown at him in favor of trying to get John to shut up until they arrived.

"Does your gut even answer to human, anyways?"

"Probably not. Fuck if I know, it's a gut with no sentience or hearing appendages," Karkat mumbled, scarcely bothering to listen.

"What about…_tickling_?" John reached his hand out towards the aforementioned gut, aiming to catch Karkat by surprise. Maybe that'd teach him to be a buzz kill again!

Karkat noticed the motion darting toward his body and quickly acted, sidestepping and simultaneously reaching for his knife in his shock. His collapsing and expanding bloodsack leaped in his chest cavity painfully with the movement, but the excitement had already gotten to him. He was prepared to fight the intruder and defend himself.

Yet only after he got away from the pervasive hand did he remember he was unarmed, and only after he remembered he was unarmed did he remember that John was just being an asshole.

_No, damn it, not fucking John! Of all people to witness that!_

"No! Don't fucking do that!" he blubbered, his face turning red under the safety of the hood. He was still a little jittery. "Why in the ever-loving name of fuck did you unscrupulous weasel think that would be _okay_? Under_ what circumstances_ would it be_ okay_ for _you_ to touch_ me,_ _without permission_? I can't just damn well _cozy up to someone_ after-"

"Oh my god, seriously, Karkat! I'm sorry! I didn't know! I just! What the fuck was that?"

"That was me preparing to cut your fingers off, you abhorrent shitstain! Seriously, do you have a brain in that minuscule cranial cavity, or is that just where you keep some extra air to breathe? No, fuck this, it's time out for the idiot. That's you! It's just common sense that you don't mess with a fucking…a fucking _thief!_"

"I've already messed with a thief, and that hasn't happened until now! Are you okay or what? Why did you do that?"

"No, you worthless crotchstained barfpuppet. No, I am not okay. The porcine hoof belonging to the swollen hag that is Lady Destiny has stomped another throat, you know! It looks like I'm not only going to be deaf and blind, I'm also going to be mute! Ha ha fucking _ha_."

"Okay, seriously, stop flipping your shit, it was just me trying to tickle you. What's the big deal?"

"_You_ are the big deal, is what. The big deal is _you_. The only time anyone bothers to touch me is when they are trying to search my goddamn pockets. And when someone is trying to search my goddamn pockets, then they are also going to end up _stealing the only shit I have_! How much of a leprous idiot can you even_ be_-"

"Dude, shut up."

Karkat's eyes widened before he stiffened upon realization of his actions. His face was squashed and contorted in his attempt to be quiet. Fuck, he couldn't control himself. _Stupid, stupid, stupid!_

He did well to close his mouth before he cussed his boss out again. Once he got going…

"We're supposed to be going to see my best friend. We're going to have a good time and you're going to make a new friend and you're not going to flip out at me while we are there. Seriously, can you stop spazzing for one fucking second until we finish the visit? We're not going to arrive at this rate."

"Fine," Karkat bluntly replied, not trusting himself to say any more than that. This was his first official order. He'd better carry it out.

"Good. Now, let's go. We can go back home after this, I swear, you've just gotta be pleasant. And agreeable. And nice."

"I can be pleasant and agreeable and nice." Karkat felt offended over such an accusation.

"Perfect, so le-"

"You know what? Anyone who says otherwise can have a healthy, devastating dislocation of their jaw to celebrate their terrible opinion," Karkat interrupted casually, not bothering to let John finish being an annoying twit and conveniently forgetting to shut up.

The sun was still high in the sky as they trampled along cobblestone streets in silence. Not a single fuck was given in that one moment, because they were all being hoarded by Karkat motherfucking Vantas for a rainy day.


	12. Center of Darkness

Shine bright, shine far, be a star, or a moon, or a sun, or a planet, or whatever celestial body you would like to be!

Oh, man! It's been so long. Thank goodness the entire roleplay is faithfully preserved on deviantART, so when I actually feel like writing again I can do it!

First of all, a very important message: **please go back and reread this fanfiction**! I've fixed it up on account of my dissatisfaction with my writing and spelling and grammar, so it's better and everything is conveyed in a way that better suits what I've been trying to go for with each chapter.

Of course, you don't have to, since I know it's crazy long and could probably knock a man out with its wordiness. But I would greatly appreciate it. Not to mention, it's a great way to review on just what's been going on!

And second of all, thank you all so much for bearing with me and my indecisiveness and utter laziness. My future chapters will all be wonderful because I am not only making them for you, but also for myself. I feel I have progressed as a writer just by writing this monster of a fanfiction. 40,000+ words, and it's only the second day fanfiction-wise!

Third of all, regarding the use of slang: I don't want this to be a fanfiction that is painfully difficult for me to write (and hence difficult to read without getting bored), but I don't want this to be outright "are you fucking sure this is in the Renaissance", so I've compromised. I've always written it in such a way that the slang concepts would be understandable for Renaissance people without overexplaining. This means no electronics or distinct non-European cultural influences, since this takes place in an England-like country, but this does mean plenty of "guy" and "crap" and "fucking glorious love ballads", which were popular at the time since suddenly the whole European world realized that secular music can, in fact, be a thing.

So, without further ado, the fanfiction!

_Disclaimer dishmaimer._

* * *

><p>John just couldn't let Karkat have his way with the whole conversation. He was <em>not<em> going to encourage violence in the Egbert family.

"You better not dislocate my best friend's jaw. He needs it to spew all his Southern crap from," John said sternly. He even went so far as to think about shaking his index finger in Karkat's direction, but quickly came to the conclusion that Karkat would bite it off.

"Oh god! That guy again. The one we're going to see in literally less than an hour! And what's this about Southern crap? Don't tell me he's another troll," Karkat groaned, putting his head into his hands.

Karkat didn't think he could handle meeting someone else like Kanaya. She was probably only allowed to work for him because she's some normal-blood troll with human friends. Karkat was a mutant, the lowest of the low, one who made the grave mistake of existing.

_Stupid, stupid, stupid!_

"He's not a troll! He's just from some weird down-South portion of Derse where it's really hot and everyone wears dark eyewear."

"Well, fuck. I don't know any portion of Derse like that." Karkat shifted his gaze towards the path in front of him, making sure to kick any nearby pebbles. "Then again, I've mostly been in Prospit, dealing with idiots like you."

John stopped in his place. He frowned and crinkled his eyebrows together in response, making sure to exaggerate the crinkling of his chin for comedic effect.

"Kar_kaaaaat!_ I thought you were going to be pleasant and agreeable and nice!"

Karkat rolled his eyes, stopping only moments after John did. He was only vaguely aware of the nature of the words coming out of his employer's mouth; he was more focused on not breaking out into a self-hating fit because of them.

_Some joke that is, you idiot._

"Maybe later, dipshit," the urchin said, stopping. He turned his hood-covered eyes towards John and sighed. "No, don't look at me like that, Mr. Egbert, I promise that I'll behave my filthy, unwashed, money-grabbing self in front of the nice young man with the swords! Now wipe off that stupid fucking baby animal pout already, you're making me physically sick with that _face_ of yours."

The urchin's final statement was punctuated with a dismissing wave. He turned his head away from John and started walking again.

(Okay, maybe Karkat wasn't very good at controlling himself sometimes. He still _tried_.)

John mussed up his own hair, out of habit, and frowned for real this time. A pause. "Oh, come on, that's totally not what I meant by that! It was just a little joke!"

"Sure it isn't," Karkat said, dropping his head down so that John couldn't see his face. He said he'd behave for the useless, weak human with legal authority over him, so he'd better go through with it, instead of flapping his scrawny arms about like a cluckbeast with its head cut off.

"It really isn't! I was just making fun of how you call me an idiot all the time!" John began to run, seeing as Karkat _would not wait up on him!_

"Naturally," the urchin said into his robe, which was slightly blowing into his face.

"Hey!"

"Mm."

"Karkat!"

"Egbert._"_ Karkat sounded tired, like interacting with John was a drain on his energy.

"Geez, lighten up, you sound like you're being squeezed to death in a printing press."

"Is that an order, _master_?"

What Karkat had really wanted to say was, _John, you fucking asshole, I probably _would _wind up getting squeezed to death in a printing press,_ but he knew that he couldn't. Not until he was certain that John'd be okay with having a troll living next to his room and making him breakfast every morning for at least two months and calling him out on how he put his socks on the wrong fucking feet.

See, Kanaya kept to herself, but Karkat didn't, like the idiot he was. John only interacted with Kanaya if he had to, and well, he went out of his way to pester Karkat, because he didn't know better.

The urchin had to spare him. John'd probably be disgusted with himself if he knew he'd tried to _play friends_ with a troll instead of just having one work for him on the cheap. He'd tolerate the latter, not the former. There were people like that. He'd worked for them before.

(Still, Karkat liked pretending that John liked him as a person enough to dispense with formalities, even if he did assume Karkat was human, even if he did assume Karkat wasn't some disgusting thief off the streets, even if he didn't realize that human or not, Karkat was a taintchafing nooksucker in a dirty robe. He was troll enough to admit it.)

(But that's all it was. A game of pretend. The furbeast not realizing it should be eating the squeakbeast, and instead dangling it from its carefully trimmed claws.)

"Ew, don't say stuff like that," John said, deciding to dismiss the whole ordeal in the end. Karkat only fiddled with his hood in response. "And anyway, what was that about a stupid baby animal pout? Because I don't have that, you're greatly mistaken and also fuck you."

A moment of silence. John could not tell if Karkat was going to reply or not; he could not see Karkat's facial expression underneath his hood. But it seemed like Karkat really was upset - over what, John didn't know - and he might not even dare to speak up.

John was wrong.

"So, you're not that poor sap with the idiotic thing you do when you stick out your bottom lip? You're not the sorry ass whose fucking bottom lip transcends all degrees of pathetic little mewling infantile pitifulness? There's no such individual as that?"

"Exactly!" The blue boy almost breathed a sigh of relief. "See, I'm full of mangrit, Karkat. Men like us don't _mewl!"_

Karkat glared at John, though the human twit couldn't see him due to the hood obscuring all. Really, it was more of a symbolic thing, akin to thinking,_ fuck you, John Egbert,_ at full volume.

"Oh ho ho, so that's how you are! You don't stand there, staring at me like a street youth with a missing leg, all 'please sir could you spare some kindness for a poor young boy' until my agonized bulge drives itself up the fragile skin of my crotch, where it fucking _cuddles up_ _against my internal organs_ until you decide to have mercy and let up on my poor tortured being. Because you clearly have some fictitious unit of stupid gender-related pride called _mangrit_ that absolutely nullifies any of your disgusting, pitiful goddamn stupid baby animal tendencies!"

"Haha, Karkat, you're so gross." John had tuned out most of what Karkat was saying; all he gathered from his employee's response was that the visuals were terrifying and could probably soon be applied to himself.

"Oh, no, Egbert. You haven't even _seen_ gross. You don't know what it's like to be me, when my shame globes have retreated into my tragic nardcocoon of a body, going into hiding from that disgusting twitch of your extended lower lip, and I can't coax them back out no matter how many goddamn _apology cookies_ I wave behind their backs."

"_Karkat!"_

(What John really wanted to ask was why the apology cookies, but he was starting to get the idea that it was futile to question Karkat's convoluted metaphors.)

"You see, when the pain is so encumbering that my legs are rendered useless, it becomes very goddamn difficult to wax poetic about flowers or philosophize about..._human_ _nature_. So I tried singing some fucking glorious love ballads to them after I tried the cakediscs, because I'm such a wanton thinker at heart. However, it seems they only come back to the outside world when there's no outside threat from your kicked-puppy face. I think they're _scared_, Egbert! You get that pout on your face one more time, they might end up pushing into my gut!"

"And, what? Your gut'll have something to say about that?"

"A badge of honor for the moron, on account of his spectacular motherfucking gut-related inferences." Karkat scoffed, finding it very hard not to grin this time. Even if the grin was directed at glee over John's eager stupidity.

"Oh, well, thank you, so much, I'd just like to thank my family, and the commission, and…"

"Oh my god, you're literally the biggest moron to ever fall into the hay pile," Karkat interrupted. "How the hell did you survive as an infant?"

"Rude!"

As the duo babbled on, in front of an empty blacksmith's shop, windows glowing with the stoked fires of the forge, streets paved with still more cobblestone, the all-knowing coolkid had been waiting for a very long time.

There was no doubt in this guy's mind that he wasn't exactly fond of this situation, and obviously he had an idea of what better things he could be doing. Things that weren't his job or anything relating to it. Things more dork-oriented.

Not that anybody around would really know. He was so dutifully hammering his metal into shape on top of his anvil that passersby simply assumed metal-pounding was his intention.

Sparks flew into the air. The boy mopped some sweat off his brow as he worked.

The sun was roasting him alive.

Fortunately for John, he was prepared to wait as long as needed. When John was late, he was probably bringing along some sort of awesome surprise. Like a mug of apple juice. Or some cheese bread. It was just that kind of friendship; one man bribed with delicious baked goods and beverages, and one man bribing.

Of course, the whole relationship wasn't based on that, but it didn't hurt the success of it any.

The coolkid paused for a second. Amid the clangs and the thuds, the boy had just heard the excited squeaking of his best friend, and something that sounded as unpleasant as an unobtanium sword being scraped on Roman concrete, except it came in different pitches and in a different octave.

It was speech. John was talking out loud, and was he putting on some sort of voice? The swordsman put away his hammer in preparation, and straightened out his worn out breeches.

_Would you look at that, the man of the hour's here, dutifully shaming the Egbert family name just by turning up like an eccentric douchebag._

Not that the coolkid really cared, Egbert could do with a bit of rebellion every now and then. But hey. Egbert could also do with some homestyle teasing.

The, the blond made the mistake of leaning over, squinting through his dimming eyewear for a better view. Almost immediately, he leaned backwards, in disbelief from what he saw.

_This can't be right, _he thought. He wiped the end of his shirt against his glasses and went right back to staring. _John, you colossal ham, what did you get yourself into this time?_

The new guy dressed like he'd tried to make a robe out of a goddamn sack of potatoes. He was so short, compared to John, that he might as well have been a sack of potatoes, reincarnated (if you believe the pagan stuff). Sack Of Potatoes also seemed to have a hood covering his face. The covering-his-face aspect, the coolkid could respect, but the fucking hood just looked so _stupid_ and _uncool_ that he couldn't even handle it.

He couldn't hold in his amusement, all he could think of was _this guy and his fucking outfit_.

"Who's your new boyfriend, Egbert?" he called out, stomping the bottoms of his shoes on the ground as he chortled.

Karkat suddenly stopped and clenched his fists. He couldn't be too sure, but he seemed to have overheard the mating call of a perfect specimen of Dersite douchebag.

_Fuck you, John's little _friend_. I am nothing of the sort._

"None of your fucking business, asschump," Karkat said out loud, at the same time that John squealed, "Ew! You know I'm not like that!"

"Oh, come on. You know you _are_ like that, I know you wanna sample the goods every now and then. Well, sorry, Eggs, this baby's off the market until further notice. Good thing you've got Shortcake o'er here to make an honest man out of you."

"Ewww! I thought this was a good Christian country!"

"Not to fucking mention that I _mugged_ the sorry excuse for a nook," the urchin hissed to himself, careful not to let the new guy overhear his words.

The coolkid suddenly went quiet.

Evidently, Karkat had not been as quiet as he thought.

John's face took on a stricken look, as though he'd just realized he'd left something important at his house. His eyes darted about, carefully scanning Karkat and rapidly moving on to the blond in shades, then repeating in a frenzied anxiety loop.

Within mere moments, the air had grown thick and still with sudden tension.

"Oh, uh, bad idea to say that little…out loud…it's just a joke, that's a-" John blustered, shoe grinding at the Roman-style concrete a little bit, trying to salvage the situation, oh god why wo-

"_Mugging_?" The blond suddenly appeared in front of Karkat, only to lean on the (horribly diminutive) individual's head with his elbow. He threw the employee a cold look before turning back to John.

The blue boy gulped.

The urchin snarled.

"Haha, d-dude, that's actually a funny sto-"

"Mmhm."

"It all started when I was lost i-"

"Nah, bro. Sorry to hafta shut you up here, but I wanna hear it from _him_." The blond condescendingly patted Karkat's head.

Karkat slapped the cooldouche's arm off, snarling threateningly. Cooldouche kept his face absolutely still, certain not to let the robed twerp get any emotional response out of him. The two of them had turned their heads toward each other, trying to intimidate the other, while the employee kept his snarl going for as long as he could.

Finally, Karkat gave in and inhaled his needed air, but to compensate, he decided to speak up.

"Well. What can I say? Mugging. Oh golly gee, do I love mugging! See, just yesterday, in the middle of the afternoon, I got out my nasty little mugging claws and dug into twerp-ass's wallet like the greedy piece of shit that I am. And now, seeing as I am here and my hunger for gold is never satisfied, I will also mug everyone in the surrounding goddamn area, because I am just an unstoppable, depraved kleptomaniac and I simply cannot control myself around people who are richer than I am. Better keep that wallet of yours hidden, hotshot! I eat leather money bags like yours for breakfast!"

The quip was punctuated with a sneer, intended to express irritation at the cooldouche's self-assured yet barely-founded judgements.

Cooldouche raised an eyebrow. Clearly, this was not the response he was looking for.

"Yeah, okay," Cooldouche deadpanned, bringing out a dirk that was hidden in his boots. Instead of thrusting or even getting it into position, he twirled the blade around his fingers, head turned toward Karkat. "I don't want to hear that horseshit. Just fucking do it. I dare you to lay even a _single_ finger on a Strider."

"Oh, good lord no," Karkat hissed, threatening to spit at the blond. "I wouldn't want to give you the sensation of being touched by someone for the first time in years!"

"Both of you, shut up, oh my god!"

John had heard enough of this weird and…frankly _disturbing_ conversation. Already it hadn't went too well with Kanaya, and he was pretty sure that the whole ordeal with Rose was just awkward. He was not going to let another meeting go wrong!

"John, du-" An incredibly uncool outburst from the blond.

"Strider, you'd better put that sword back where it came from!"

"Bu-"

"I'm serious!"

Strider looked over at John and outright _frowned_. He was evidently very, very unhappy.

"For fuck's sake, Egbert. Bros don't let bros get robbed by…whatever you call potato sack muggers with legs." The blond bent over to put his dagger back into his boots, but this didn't stop him from moving his arms about and gesticulating.

Karkat had to mutter creative swears under his breath to keep himself from clawing the blond's face off.

"You saw it yourself, he's not actually going to mug anyone." John raised his arms in a questioning sort of gesture, as though he were confused by the very nature of his friend's bias.

"He mugged you." The coolkid stood up as he said this, defensively crossing _his_ arms in reply.

"And maybe there's a reason why I'm here in the same general area as him right now?"

"Lack of common sense?"

John's lips went flat.

"Okay, look at this, Egbert, do you even know what that reason _is?_ This lil' bitch is someone who thought it'd be cool to jump you in an alley and empty your wallet for you, like a cleaning service run by pickpocketing little boys. If anything, he's supposed to be rotting in a dungeon far away from yo-"

Karkat felt an uncontrollable flash of anger at the very mention of a dungeon. "You shut your fucking mouth, you brainless piece of shit!"

"Karkat!" John butted in just as Strider turned his head towards the noise, leaving a flustered and angry urchin blathering, trying not to sound defensive but failing. The blue boy cleared his throat and began again, more vigorously than before.

"If you'll actually trust me on this, I was going to tell you that the reason he's here is that I thought that it'd be a _bad_ idea to put him in a dungeon!" John turned his head towards Strider, but gestured towards Karkat. "Have you even seen the way his robe hangs off of him? He'd probably die if I let him end up there. He even said so himself that he didn't have a decent meal in weeks! I mean, it's indirect murder, sending a guy like him to a dungeon. I don't want to be responsible for killing anyone."

Karkat immediately shut up.

_Of course he doesn't actually like you, stupid. It's just because you're a defenseless shit smear on society's window, steadily being scraped off by some unwitting servant, and Egbert felt bad for the goddamn shit smear._

_It was only stupid human pity._

Strider was not convinced by John's little monologue. He was still analyzing Sack O' Potatoes and his grayish pallor and the faint glimpse of his chicken legs.

He turned his head back to John.

"So, what? You're going to ignore that this guy's capital-grade criminal and treat him like your new best friend for life? Make friendship bracelets with him? Fucking skip through a spring meadow together like a pair of gleeful nitwits? He's a criminal. He's illegal. He's probably figuring out ways to jump you and escape into the motherfucking sunset right about now."

"Are you kidding me? Do you really think that's how I am with anyone I bring over to meet you? Or are you _jealous_?"

"Hell no." Strider gave John a sort of reproving look, which was only discernible due to the placement of his eyebrows. John shrugged in response, evidently not having been serious about the jealousy bit.

"Well, shit, what do you want me to say? Rose likes him, apparently he saved her back when she was really young. Kanaya can put up with him. He can actually be kinda funny sometimes. Really, he's not that bad. I'd like for you to be able to say the same."

The blond sighed. Karkat held his head in a singular hand, punching his temple with the other; he was currently incapable of dealing with the asinine horseshit that John was spewing, yet incapable of bringing himself to butt in.

"No matter how nice he used to be in the good ol' days, you should pardon me if I'm not exactly open to the new and improved goddamn _angel_ on our hands." Strider closed his eyes and adjusted his shades, clearly not capable of accepting John's optimism.

"It was out of necessity! I've personally got no hard feelings."

No response.

"Well, whatever. If you get your head out of your ass, you'll see." John said after a few seconds, addressing his statement to the blond. He gave a concerned glance towards Karkat, who had his arms crossed and was glaring at his feet. "Could you please at least introduce yourselves? You don't even have to shake hands."

Strider looked towards John and sighed. He turned his head back towards the employee. His upper lip twitched. He was evidently less pleased about John's new employee than he let on.

"Don't ever wanna see him 'round here 'gain. Why the fuck'd I wanna play friends with this shitheap?" More gesticulation. More irritation.

"I can stop bringing apple juice around here, _coolkid_. But, you know, maybe, you're just too _cool_ to associate with types like Karkat, and you're too cool for _apple juice_…"

Suddenly, the coolkid straightened, as if he had suddenly seen the entire situation in a brand new light.

"Hell no, Striders're all about taking things in stride. Acceptance and shit. And apple juice, Egbert, you little shit, you know me too well, I need to get a new best friend who won't play dirty like that."

Egbert only pointed his arms towards Karkat, palms outward, as if presenting him as a new gift.

A pause.

The blond hesitated a bit before speaking up. He was clearly not open to acceptance when it involved some grey twerp running around in burlap-like robes. Maybe he didn't want to take to talking to stealing hooded thugs. Maybe he just wanted to be a reasonable goddamn person and keep away from those kids Mama told you about.

But then he remembered. Lives were at stake here.

He was not doing this for John.  
>He was doing this for the Earthly golden ichor of the gods they called apple juice.<p>

"Okay. Let's get this over with. Name's Dave Strider. I work with metal."

Karkat grimaced. Throughout the whole ordeal, he evidently did not want to speak to anyone. In fact, he kinda wanted to get the fuck out of there, only the fact that none of the streets nearby were grimy enough for him to slip away into was keeping him in check. Dave was halfway right with his biased assumptions.

"Karkat Vantas," he spat, trying to force the words out of his mouth. "Fuck you, Dave Strider."

"_Idem pour vous,_ dickwad," Dave replied, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. "God, is Jarbat always this big a pain in the ass?"

"Dave!" A snarl from Karkat followed, but this was ignored by both humans.

"I get to keep my apple juice, dude, I did the whole fucking deal."

John scrunched his face up at Dave. "Now I know what Rose means when she calls you an insufferable prick. That is you, Dave. It's your god-given middle name. _Dave 'Insufferable Prick' Strider."_

"Wouldn't have been able t'live any other way," Dave "Insufferable Prick" Strider says, smirking like he knows something John doesn't.

Of course, that smirk is nothing more than a bluff.

"So, now what?" Kanaya said. It had just been a moment of silence that lasted a few minutes. Perhaps, neither Rose nor Kanaya should've been so blunt about their assumptions; they could have easily skirted about their thoughts and feelings for an hour or so, and killed some time that way. "How do you feel?"

Rose was looking fairly stiff, as though it were difficult for her to speak. She was no stranger to therapeutic tentacles, but she was a stranger to being on the receiving end of them.

"Honestly, I'm not sure. I'm now starting to have _my_ fair share of uncertainty regarding Karkat's species."

The human looked towards the troll for a moment before she began again.

"After all, our inferences are only founded on evidence _suggesting_ that he is of your nature. We could very well be wrong. And though I could also be wrong even now, it's just that - excuse me, I regret to stereotype your kind, Kanaya - many trolls are none too fond of us, so it makes little sense for a troll, one without any cause to think otherwise of humans, to save one."

"Now is not the time for doubt, Rose," the troll girl reminded her girlfriend, as she unlocked the door to the Alternian portion of the library. "Though I am no analyst compared to you, I would say that you have some quality troll intuition to reckon with before you overthink this." Kanaya smiled. "Humans like you do not make those sorts of mistakes when they speak."

"Perhaps you are right," Rose sighed, following Kanaya into the secret room. "But still, what will bother me until I see Karkat again is this: why would he save a human, if he has no reason to want to?"

"There could be many reasons." Kanaya closed the door and locked it back up. Then, she sat down on a chair, cushioned with velvet, adjusting her gown to stop any wrinkles from forming.

A pat of the chair next to hers, an invite for Rose to sit.

"He may, shockingly enough, actually have good experiences with humans that he remembers. These experiences might have driven him to help both you and John."

"Karkat Vantas, a creature of sentiment? It seems unlikely."

"You are forgetting something very important, Rose. Something that you, yourself pointed out."

Rose sat down to think for a moment. Kanaya smiled, gleefully letting her fangs show.

"Do you mean how submissive toward John he was when we left? It did shock me as something unusual, because he was asserting his dominance on _us_ so often, as if he didn't want us to have the upper hand." The blonde thought a little more. "Looking over that now, it seems more like an urge to appease the dominant party, in order to fulfill his then-hope of escape. He may have just accepted his fate as a servant."

"Oh, well, yes, that sounds reasonable," the troll said, flustering a little bit. "Well, then, if not sentiment, then maybe he was just a very good person."

Rose did not feel comfortable trying to deny Kanaya's claim. She went even more stiff.

"Or perhaps, he had a particular vendetta against those thugs of yours! Yes, _that's_ a very reasonable cause!" The troll girl looked very proud of herself; she was glad to be in charge, for once.

Rose looked almost ashamed to speak. "You are correct in saying that the cause is reasonable, but it does not explain John's encounter, or, to be more specific, why Mr. Vantas couldn't properly…_mug,_ at the time."

"Oh. Then it seems that there is more to our little friend here than horns," Kanaya said, slightly disappointed but not upset.

"And we bring up one of the questions I'd been asking myself back when I was still trying to recall how Karkat was familiar to me. Who exactly _did_ John bring home?"

"Who, indeed." Kanaya nudged a little at her horns, more confused than she'd been a few minutes ago.

A sigh from Rose.

"Don't ask me, Kanaya. For once, I think I've been hit with a very, very challenging case."

Ready to put the conversation behind her, she picked up the rebellious Complacency of The Learned and began reading. Kanaya, not wanting to be left out, scooched her chair closer and leaned onto her girlfriend.

"Still, there has to be something," Rose muttered. Kanaya only smoothed her girlfriend's hair and nodded, giving her a reassuring peck on the cheek, being very careful about her teeth in contrast to before.

Rose was so distracted, she forgot to wipe off Kanaya's lipstick.


End file.
